Pure Beauty
by Dinasis
Summary: What starts with Diana's attempt to leave for good ends in Bruce having to adjust to adding family to his life once again. BMWW
1. One Last Tour

**Author's Note:** I'm back with a new story for the new year.

Like my previous stories, this is set in the DCAU, drawing inspiration from the Batman and the Superman animated series, Justice League and Justice League Unlimited, and Batman Beyond, then adjusted slightly so the timeline all fits. It will also be a first-person tale, but if that's not your preferred narrative perspective, I hope you will still give it a chance. I am just as committed to finishing this story as I was those that preceded it, but as I first mentioned in my profile (where you can always find a note on the current status of my stories), chapters are proving longer than those I wrote previously, so I'm going to aim more for consistency in posting rather than speed.

All named and recognizable characters used in this non-commercial work are the property of DC Comics.

* * *

><p>"It's beautiful, isn't it?"<p>

I pull myself from my thoughts, turn to the marksman who walked up to the window to stand beside me. "Yes." I look left, return my gaze to the Earth below. The blue planet fills nearly the whole of the hallway window before us. "It seems so wonderfully peaceful from here."

"I'd like to think we've helped a lot with that over the years." Ollie laughs as he pockets his hands and leans his right shoulder against the thick window.

I smile and nod. After a moment, my expression falls and I turn away as a great sadness takes hold. "It's a perfect note to end on."

With a solemn step—the first, I'm sure, of many on this day—I begin to walk away and down the hall. "End? What do you mean by that?" I close my eyes, let my smile fade, and continue on without pause. "Hey! Wonder Woman!"

I head for the elevators, taking one up to the private administration floor above the transporter and command decks. Unsurprisingly, I find Superman in our conference room, up from the surface and preparing for our next founders' meeting. I can't wait another day for everyone to be together.

"Kal."

He turns to me cheerily. "Afternoon, Diana." He pauses, taking stock of my quiet tone. "Is…something the matter, Diana?"

I smile in response, but it is without joy or humor. I cross the room purposefully, sit in Flash's regular seat beside the Man of Steel. There's no sense stringing him along with clues before I get to the point. "I'm going to resign from the League and return to Themyscira."

"_What?_" He is flabbergasted and his shock, his near outrage, come as no surprise. "Diana, why?"

_'Though perhaps I could have softened the blow before tearing off the Band-Aid...'_ I blink, smile. "Man's World is a far more peaceful place now than when I first arrived to help you and the others fight the Imperium. I've more than accomplished my mission in coming here."

He doesn't look convinced. He doesn't even look like he's listening to my explanations and yet I still drone on. "With the way things are now, the League is strong enough a force of peace and justice that it will not suffer from my absence."

I smile dryly, but the Kryptonian merely folds his arms and straightens in his chair. "You're lying, Diana." His expression darkens as my eyes widen. I'm a little surprised that he caught me, but more so that he's calling me out. "You're leaving because…because of _him_…aren't you?"

Emotions sweep over me and despite the ache in my heart, I force another smile, this one more painful to achieve than those that preceded. "Diana, please! You _know_ how stubborn Bruce is. We both know how he feels about you—all _three_ of us probably do—but he's too pigheaded… You have to let it go, Diana. You'll only hurt yourself if you keep trying. Please, Diana, let go and move on. Let yourself heal, but don't leave the rest of us behind to do it."

I lean left, over the conference table, and rest my forehead in the crook between my thumb and forefinger. "You're right, I will only hurt myself if I keep trying, but I can't change where my heart lies so easily, Kal."

I look out past the underside of my fingers. Kal's frown is disheartening to see. "Then you're a coward, Diana," he whispers.

I see the line for what it is: desperation, an attempt to present me with a challenge that my pride will not let me back away from. Unfortunately for us both, I've already tried to motivate myself with the same accusations. I smile ruefully and sit up. "Then a coward I'll be. I just can't keep going on like this." As I raise my hands toward the corners of the ceiling on either side of me, I lift my voice and add, "Look at me, Kal! I live aboard a constant reminder of him. I _could_ move to the surface, but I could never be a part of the League without being reminded of him."

I drop my arms carelessly, my left falling onto the table with a smack as my right hits me in the side. I drop my voice again. "I can't give him up, even if I wanted to. I love him, Kal, but if he won't have me, I need to get him out of my thoughts. The only place I can go and be at peace is home to Mother and my sisters on Themyscira. I'm sorry, Kal. I've already made up my mind."

He turns toward the table, closes his eyes. He clasps his hands together as he lifts them onto its surface, leaning down over the joined appendages as his apparent sadness takes firm hold. I lift my hand and reach forward, place it on his near shoulder supportively. I'm about to speak, but he twists his shoulder out from under my hand and abruptly rises.

He turns his back to me and walks to the window, his arms hanging rigidly at his sides. He stands unmoving before the glass, even the reflection of his eyes blocked from my sight. With nothing else left, I give him my heartfelt thanks for all that he's done for me and again for the friendship we've shared, bid him one last farewell, rise, and leave the room.

I return to the elevators. The car carries me down to the command deck, where I find J'onn and Mr. Terrific. My Martian friend meets me at the elevator's door, waiting for me when it opens. He steps into the car and the door closes behind him.

His hand moves to the elevator controls, typing in a few commands before it falls back to his side and the car comes to a halt. We both stand stock still for nearly a full minute. I know what he is doing and welcome it, opening my mind to the telepath.

Finally, J'onn splits the silence. "I have been waiting for this, Diana."

"You have?"

"Of course. I have been sensing things building for the past month and especially in the past week. It is the reason I am here aboard the Watchtower today."

"Well, I'm guessing you know why." He nods in response and I smile to joke, "And you're not going to try to stop me?"

"Could Superman?" he solemnly returns without missing a beat.

I drop my gaze, remembering the painful encounter with the man who has been my closest friend during my years among men. As I think, J'onn lifts his right arm to place his hand atop my shoulder. "Thank you, Diana, for all that you have done for us and for everything you've done for me. It is with many thanks to you that I am who I am today."

His understanding opens emotional floodgates in my heart. Almost before I realize what I'm doing, I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a friendly, appreciative hug. "I'm sorry, J'onn. Thank you."

He embraces me and lets me hold him for a time, but eventually takes me by the shoulders to lean me back, helping me to stand tall again. "You will be greatly missed, Diana—_I_ will miss you greatly, but…" He pauses, smiles. "I wish you only the best."

"Thank you, J'onn. I'll always treasure our friendship."

He nods. "As will I. Thank you, Diana. Should you ever need anything, please do not forget that I will forever be but a thought away." He returns his hand to the elevator controls and the car begins to move almost immediately. He floats up and back out through the closed door, leaving me alone on the way for my next visit.

I make my way downstairs again, finally coming to a lounge on one of the residential decks. Wally and John are with a few other Leaguers watching one of Flash's movies on the room's big screen. Despite the allure of explosions and gunfire on screen, the speedster sees me almost immediately and lightly hits John with his elbow. I wave the pair over and we move down the hall so that our conversation will neither be overheard nor interrupt the film.

"Diana, what's up?" Flash asks. "You want to join in our movie marathon? We only just started, like maybe fifteen minutes ago."

I shake my head in reply. I need to get right down to business. "No. I came to tell you that I'm leaving the League. I'm going to go home to Themyscira."

Both men are shocked. Flash stutters as he tries to ask me why. "We've made a lot of progress working together. From the rich to the poor, everyone has benefited from our efforts immensely. There is little left for me to accomplish in Man's World."

John looks doubtful, suspicious, but Wally draws my attention. "Come on, Diana! There's lots left for you to do!" He pauses, clearly hoping I will see reason with only that little said. "There're still tons more exotic foods for you to try, hundreds more movies for you to see—you can start right now! We're watching Devastator 3—a _classic_ Donald Shaltenpepper action flick—no one'll mind if we restart it."

He begins to say more, but John stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder that immediately darkens the speedster's expression. The ex-Marine then offers me his free right hand. I reach out and let him share a handshake with me. "Thank you for everything you've done for us and with us, Diana. You've honored your people."

I thank him, barely getting the words out before Flash jumps me, hugging me tightly. I can tell as I return his hug that he's fighting back tears. It's depressing to feel the quick shivers run through him, but I still manage to smile supportively as I stand him straight again. "Good—"

"No!" Wally interrupts. "No goodbyes, Diana….just…" He sniffs rather loudly as he forces a friendly smile of his own. "See you later."

I nearly chuckle as I shake my head with amusement. I begin to turn. "See you later, then," I say before I turn my head as well and leave two more good friends behind.

I get nearly halfway down the hall before I hear Flash call after me, "That's a promise, Diana! Don't...don't you dare break it…" I close my eyes and push down a wave of turmoil that seems to rise as his voice falls. I can't answer him, not even to acknowledge his words. His is a promise I'm destining myself to break.

Pushing past my thoughts, I realize I have only one last visit to make. It doesn't take me too long to arrive at one very special door from among the countless others like it. I knock, hoping there will be no answer. When I'm sure I've waited long enough, I reach up for the League communicator in my ear.

The system beeps once. "Security override. User code: 003"

"User identity: Wonder Woman, confirmed," the computer's synthetic female voice rings in my ear.

"Unlock this door," I command, following the familiar script.

After but a moment, the light beside the door turns green and it slides open. I close it behind me and move to sit on the edge of the bed, under the room's sole window. There, looking out at the stars, I wait.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time before the door opens again. I don't turn. I don't need to, not yet. The door closes again and the lights come on. "Well, this situation seems like it's been done before."

I finally turn, another smile on my face as I look across the room at the familiar face of Shayera Hol. "What is it this time, Diana? You need me to go to the Underworld with you again, give Hades a few good whacks?" she asks as I stand.

I laugh a good, genuine laugh. It's refreshing. "No." I stand slowly. "I wanted to thank you."

"What for?"

"For everything you've done for the League, for the Earth, and for her people. Most of all, I wanted to thank you for coming through for us in the end during the invasion." I leave it at that. There's nothing more I need to say, she already knows exactly what I mean.

"Diana…what are you…" Her eyes widen with realization. "You're leaving, aren't you?" Her voice is nearly a whisper of disbelief.

I can only nod. I'm growing weary of answering that question aloud. It keeps getting harder to say.

"Well...why? There's got to be a good reason, hasn't there?"

"We've done enough, I've done enough for Earth, for Man's World," I can't help but lie again. That's a lie that's growing easier. Perhaps because it's based in a tiny shred of truth.

She is silent for a moment, then laughs abruptly with contempt. "That's crap, Diana, and you know it!"

I begin to deny it, but I hold my tongue and nod as I turn back to the windows. After a short silence, I realize that Shayera has stepped up beside me. "You're giving up on chasing him, aren't you?" Her voice is quiet, gentle. I nod again.

She sighs with exasperation. "At this rate, he'll never learn—_you'll_ never learn. Why don't you give it one more shot? Take just one last gamble?

"Go to Gotham, say your piece, do everything you can—let nothing be left unsaid, undone—and then, if you still can't get through to him…then leave. After all, don't you think it'll be worth it even if you have him just once? Wouldn't it be better to hold even a single memorable experience forever than to live an eternity of regret?"

I'd almost rather just disappear from Bruce's life. I can't say goodbye to him, I know it. I highly doubt my present resolve could handle another meeting with Bruce. Yet I'm sure Shayera is right and that my unrequited love will do me more harm than good if I simply leave it alone.

I nod in response to Shayera's suggestion. Her hand lands supportively on my shoulder and I look sidelong at the Thanagarian, then turn and smile as best I can. I hope against hope that he will accept me, that he will return my feelings, but I am sure that he will turn me away, afraid of what pain a relationship might cause, of the danger we would risk.

I thank Shayera again and offer her a sisterly hug. She replies in kind before we part and I head for the door. "Go get 'im, Diana!" she calls just before her door closes, leaving me in the hallway, once again alone.

I smile at the note of humor, then head to the hanger to board my invisible jet. As I enter myself in the queue of departures and arrivals, I check the Watchtower's orbital position. "Good," I begin to tell myself aloud. The Watchtower is above North America's eastern coast. "I won't have too long of a flight to Gotham." My smile falls. _'…And very little time to change my mind…'_ I finish silently.

As I pilot my invisible plane down, out of orbit, I decide to make the best possible use of my time. It'd be a waste to let my mind fill with idle thoughts. Instead, I consider options, refine arguments, think of any angles I might take advantage of to ensure Bruce will give me every available chance.

I nearly throw away more ideas than I come up with. Still, there's one idea in particular that I feel drawn to. If I make just the right offer and can present it just right…

When I finally reach Gotham, I park my jet alongside the winding driveway up to Wayne Manor. I climb out and fly up to the door on my own, setting myself gently upon the front landing. I feel the butterflies in my stomach as I lift my hand, close it into a loose fist. I take a deep breath, sighing as I exhale. Steeling myself, I knock with a hope, an anxiousness, and an unmistakable giddiness that I haven't felt in a long time.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Since we're restricted to two, picking a genre was a difficult task. I chose to declare Family alone, because I feel it will be most strongly represented throughout the three arcs I have planned. Still, you can certainly expect Romance, Humor, Drama, Adventure, Mystery, Angst, Tragedy, Hurt/Comfort, and Friendship. There will be ups and there will be downs, but it'll all be worth it in the end. There's a long road ahead and I hope you're all looking forward to it as much as I am!


	2. Final Fling

**Author's Note:** Two things before we begin. First, you may remember I waited until quite late in Purpose before upping the rating. Well, I'm going to earn that M a little earlier in this story. If it's ever too much, search for "sunlight". It only appears once in this chapter.

Second, a huge shout-out to LOTSlover, who helped me with a _significant_ portion of the chapter and gave me lots of great feedback. Hopefully things are even better than you remember!

All named and recognizable characters used in this non-commercial work are the property of DC Comics.

* * *

><p>"Alfred!" I call from my comfortable chair. Feeling a little impatient, I turn to check the living room's expensive wall clock. 5:15 PM. <em>'He's probably in the kitchen.'<em>

I close the business magazine I'd been skimming through and toss it onto the coffee table. It's not worth it to call out for Alfred again. If he heard me, then fine, I'll meet him in the foyer or a hallway, but if not, I'll just go and find him instead.

After a quick walk through the hallway between them, I reach the foyer. No sign of Alfred. I continue on, crossing the open room on my way to the kitchen.

When I'm in nearly the middle of the room, there's a loud knocking at the door. I look to it for a moment and then turn back down the hall toward the kitchen and dining hall. It's only a few seconds more before I see Alfred come out of the kitchen with an apron in hand. It occurs to me that he heard a knock on the door but didn't hear me yelling from the other room.

Alfred pauses when he sees me and I wave him back to let him know I'll get the door. I can ask him about our preparations for tomorrow's flight to London later. He nods in understanding and then turns around, heading back to work while putting his apron back on.

At the same time, I walk to the door. My eyes widen with surprise as I pull the ornate door open. "Diana!" I breathe as my mind races to figure out why she's here at the manor, why she's not wearing civilian clothes, and why she didn't just use the Watchtower's transporters to go straight to the cave.

"Good evening, Bruce," she greets with a warm friendliness that's practically her trademark.

I blink and shake my head to clear my mind. "What are you doing here?"

"Aren't you going to invite me inside, Bruce?"

I nearly groan at being forced to play these games, but she's right. It'll be a lot better talking to the armor-clad Wonder Woman within the privacy of Wayne Manor than on its front landing. Besides, I have to admit it's the polite thing to do. So, with a sweep of my arm, I step back out of the doorway and wave her inside.

When the door is closed behind her, I watch as she lifts her head, glancing about the foyer with a wide smile. She spent enough time living here during the Watchtower's construction, so maybe it's to reminisce. I give her a few moments, wait until she turns expectantly to me before I motion toward the living room and turn to lead the way.

Once we arrive, Diana passes by me, taking my hand firmly in her own and leading me to the couch. She sits first and as I look into her eyes, I see she will not let me sit anywhere but beside her. I'd rather not make this any more difficult than it has to be. Better to just follow her whims.

Still, that doesn't mean I have to stay silent. "Diana, why did you come here?" I repeat.

Her smile widens. "I'm here to ask you for the rest of the evening and tonight."

I pause. "What?"

"One evening and one night. Just the two of us."

I think I'm starting to get an idea of what she wants. _'I __really __should have known.'_

"You've been dead set against the idea of entering into a romantic relationship with me for years."

My face falls. I feel as though I'm deflating as I release my breath. _'This is exactly where I thought it was going.'_

She lifts a halting finger, a silent plea for patience and an open ear. With the two of us already sitting here together, I suppose I should at least give her that. "I know it isn't because you don't like me, or because you're not attracted to me. We'd _both_ have to be blind and stupid to miss that.

"You're worried about safety and I'd accept that as a valid concern if not for the fact that we're both senior, founding members of the Justice League. There's good reason for that. We're both more than capable of handling ourselves.

"You're worried about me outliving you and about all the problems you have, the 'issues' that have led you to be who you are today. I'm not making light of them, or ignoring them, and I don't pretend to think none of it would have an impact on us as a couple, but how important all of that is isn't for you to decide on your own. Don't _I_ get a say, too?

"You're worried about what might happen if we date and work together. The League is made up of some of the most empathic people on the planet. Don't you think that they might be willing to accommodate us? Aren't you underestimating yourself and me, assuming us incapable of separating our public lives from our private lives?

"I know you like to point at Shayera, John, and Mari, but as much of a mess as I'll agree that situation is, they aren't the only ones involved in relationships. Look at Huntress and Question, Black Canary and Green Arrow, Kal and Lois aren't doing too badly either, you know..."

"Diana, I—"

She raises her hand again, this time to interrupt me. "I'm not here to argue with you, Bruce." I open my mouth to repeat my earlier question once more. Fortunately, she reads my intent. "That was as much as I wanted to say on the matter. The truth is…" She surprises me again as she leans forward, folding her arms over her lap and letting her head hang. "…I'm tired, Bruce. I'm tired of playing these games with you, of us dancing around one another, of us always pulling each other close only to push apart just as quickly."

I nearly voice my agreement, but she lifts her head and strikes me with a powerful look. The weariness on her expression pales to the pleading glint in her eyes. "Give me until the end of the night, give us at least this one opportunity to just..._try_ our hand at romance."

I sigh out of indecision. It feels like she's offering a branch that's already been cut free of the olive tree. No strings to entangle ourselves in. It's unexpectedly tempting. I take too long to answer on my own for her liking.

"…Let us at least find out what it might be like to be together. If you'll give me at least that much…" Her voice drops to barely more than a whisper. "…then it'll be enough for me. I promise I'll be satisfied and I'll never again try to coax you into a relationship you don't want."

Her offer surprises me, shocks me. I don't even care that I can't keep it from my expression. Seeing how her words affect me, she smiles and sits up straighter. She leans a little closer and reaches toward me, covering my left hand with her right as best she can. "After all, one night always makes the difference, doesn't it, Bruce?"

My hands close into tight fists. An involuntary swirl of emotions fills my heart. To hear her echo my own words—the simple rationale that's kept me on stakeouts for hours, the phrase that's inspired me to push my limits for years, the simple words that so often drive me to unending action—it's nearly as maddening as it is endearing. With just a single line she elevates this opportunity to the same importance as my nightly vigilance. The worst part is that I find myself wanting to agree.

At the same time, her words remind me that there is indeed something very human between us, an understanding if absolutely nothing else, that I simply cannot ignore or deny, regardless my unwillingness to acknowledge it in her presence. So I close my eyes, hold still while I try to figure out if I can grant her wish, if I am capable of fairly giving her what she's truly asking of me. Finally, my mind runs out of dissenting points.

"…Alright." I open my eyes as I speak, wanting very much to see her reaction.

She doesn't disappoint. Relief. Joy. She smiles as a nervous shiver runs through her and she sits straighter while squeezing my hand. I quickly realize that we're already at an impasse, so I turn my hand over beneath hers and give the back of her palm a little rub with my thumb. "What do you want us to do first, Diana?"

"Master Bruce?" Alfred interrupts—innocently, I'll grant him that. We both turn toward the end of the hallway as he appears. "Miss Diana, what a pleasant surprise! Master Bruce didn't warn me we were to have company this evening."

He steps down onto the recessed floor on the level with our couch, both of us following him as he approaches. "I'm sorry, it's not his fault. I'm visiting unannounced."

"Certainly nothing to apologize for, Your Highness!" The polite old gentlemen stops before us, no doubt spotting our joined hands before he smiles. That's probably half the reason for that knowing look. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

She smiles. "I came here to ask Bruce to give…_us_ a chance."

If I didn't know better, I'd say that I saw Wonder Woman blush before replying. _'__Scratch that, she did.'_ The redness grows more pronounced as her smile shines brighter and she lifts our linked hands.

"And, as you can see, he agreed to try," she continues. I refrain from noting she took my hand before I agreed to anything.

Alfred's expression instantly warms. "Would you mind us having like a…date night here at the manor, Alfred?" she asks before he can reply.

"But of course!" He brings his hands together in front of his chest. "Is there anything in particular that you would like for dinner?"

Put on the spot, Diana seems stuck for an answer. "I'll leave it up to you, Alfred."

I notice one corner of his lips pull up as his smile becomes something a little closer to a grin for the shortest of instants. "I have _just_ the thing in mind!"

A small noise escapes me. "You worry me when you do that. You know that, don't you?" His smile grows wider as he turns from Diana to me.

"Why, Master Bruce, I haven't the foggiest." My expression sours and his only brightens further. "If you'll both excuse me, I'll get right to work." Without waiting for a response, Alfred turns on his heel and leaves us alone once more.

And we're right back at our more familiar impasse. "So…" I begin.

"What would I like to do?" Diana finishes for me with a laugh. I smile, chuckle, and nod in reply. Her expression begins to fall, becoming something so much more uncertain, so much more hopeful. "Kiss me—_really_…kiss me," she says uneasily. I can only assume that despite all she wants and hopes for, she's still nervous.

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if maybe it's instead _because_ of all she wants and hopes for that she's nervous. Before she can take my pause for a sign of unwillingness, I lift my hands to her shoulders and draw her closer. I slow just before our noses pass and look to Diana's lips and then up, into her eyes.

A quick hitch pauses her breath when our gazes meet, then she realizes I'm asking her permission, giving her one last chance to reconsider. It isn't long before she responds. She closes her eyes. It's all the permission I need. I close mine as well and lean the rest of the way forward. I keep my lips still as I lightly press mine to hers, holding for a little more than half a breath.

As I break my lips away from our short kiss, I move my hands from atop her shoulders and down to the tops of her arms. I smile for her, the expression set on my face just as she opens her eyes. She looks at me for a few moments, staring. I can't tell what she's thinking. She almost looks stunned, like a proverbial deer caught in headlights.

"No," she finally says in a small voice.

"No?"

Her expression shifts and she lifts her voice to be clearer, more authoritative. "No, Bruce." I let the confusion color the whole of my face. The prompt works. "That's not the sort of kiss I want. I want more."

_'More, huh?'_ I pause for a moment. _'Alright. I can do more.'_ I lower my right hand to the top of Diana's left thigh. I snake my left hand behind her, glide my fingertips across her shoulder blades and wrap my fingers over the end of her left shoulder. I pull her to me, kiss her briefly as I inhale, then again more deeply.

I give her one more kiss, then back away gradually. I relax my left arm, let my hand come to rest just below the base of her neck. I watch as her eyes open more slowly than after our last kiss. I notice her breathing is a little more pronounced than before and realize that mine has picked up a bit as well.

I feel movement on my chest and look down. I wonder how I missed the moment her hands found me as she lifts her right to wrap her fingers over to the back of my shoulder. "Again. More," she demands in a strikingly soft voice. For some reason, I feel myself agreeing with her.

This time, I lean into her. I lose my left hand in her dark, luscious hair as I bring it up to the back of her head. My right hand goes to the small of her back as my lips meet hers. I more quickly notice her hands this time, her left already behind my right shoulder, her right on my side halfway up my ribs.

She begins to respond, pressing against me as she kisses back. I respond to her hunger as best I can. Before long, she encourages me with a moan of satisfaction that is muffled to a mere hum against my lips. Without thinking, I press my right foot to the floor in front of the couch, beginning to lift myself over her.

Diana begins to lean back, leading me further down. I shift my left leg quickly, planting my knee on the cushions between us. I support her body with my hands for as long as I can while leaning her back. Finally, I jump my right hand from her back to the cushion to keep both of us from falling the rest of the way down. It isn't much longer before Diana's hair has settled into a pool behind her head on the end of the cushion, the top of her head mere inches from the couch's arm.

I move my right leg, straightening it below me. When it's in place, I move my right arm, too, starting it behind Diana's shoulder, letting it drift down her side. I feel her left leg hook around my right, her own a moment later lifting to cover my left on the far cushion.

My right hand continues south, eventually reaching the outside of her hip, giving me a good feel of the heat of her bare skin. I feel her left leg hook a little further around my leg and worry for the briefest of instants that her knees are in good position to put me out of commission for weeks. Luckily for me, she seems in no mood to take offense at my actions.

I feel her hands moving about my sides and back. I notice they seem to have a tendency to pull and squeeze at my backside. Occasionally, one hand or the other settles behind my neck or head. All the while, our lips continue apace, notwithstanding the occasional break for a fresh breath of air.

I keep my left hand in place, as a pillow behind Diana's head, but I soon notice that my right is heading north again. It doesn't take long to figure out where it's going, but I can't figure out if it's my hand or me that's deciding its course. I want to see, want to watch my hand as my fingers cross back from bare skin onto fabric, a brief jaunt across metal before a second fabric, and finally up, onto the sensual swell of the underside of Diana's left breast.

My hand stops with the metal band of her signature breastplate running across her chest and now under the bases of my fingers. I give her a gentle squeeze to get a better sense of her shape and feel. She gives a little moan against me and I worry that my hand has overstayed its welcome. I maneuver my hand out to her side and when I do, _that's_ when her moan turns to one of protest, but I know I shouldn't risk losing control.

Gradually, I relax myself. I slow my hands and my lips. I add lengthening pauses after each kiss. Our breathing evens. Together, we calm until I finally lift my head away and open my eyes.

Diana is already looking at me. There's a gentle, sated smile on her lips and a warmth, an unmistakable love in her eyes. It grows stronger as I watch. A minute passes before I realize that it's because of the smile on my own lips.

_'It's almost too easy falling into the role of lover with you, Diana.'_ The comment rolls about my mind for a short while. That's when I begin to notice that I'm enjoying myself, too. Yet I still cannot give the words voice.

I can feel it. Deep inside me, in the back of my mind, I can feel it take shape, a precursor.

Diana distracts me with a movement of her legs. "Here, switch with me. Lie down where I am," she gently requests as she straightens her legs and begins to float up off the cushion.

Without giving the idea any consideration, I move my right arm out of her way and support myself for a moment on my freed left. She effortlessly slips out from under me, standing on the floor beside me as I begin to turn over. My left leg hangs over the front edge of the couch as I put my right ankle up on the far arm. My head ends up on the other of the couch's arms, leaving my neck bent at a mildly uncomfortable angle.

I nearly move, but look up and the approval on Diana's face stays me. She leans over me, her hands landing near my shoulders on the cushion. She drops down atop me, her left cheek high on the right side of my chest, her breasts pressing against my stomach, the metal of the breastplate across her bust very clearly defined even through my clothes. She splits her thighs around my right leg and sneaks her left arm into the gap behind my shoulders while she puts her left hand on my chest opposite her cheek.

She sighs contentedly as she comes to rest. I try to look at her, try to see her eyes, but her head is tipped too far down for me to see anything but her golden tiara and the narrowest glimpse of her forehead. "Out of curiosity, what are we doing now?"

"On the few occasions I've had to explore Man's World as a regular person, I've noticed many couples hold one another in a similar fashion, though most of them were standing up. For a long time I've wanted to share it with you, Bruce."

"So, we're cuddling?"

"Yes." It's almost a question, as if she's heard the word before, but isn't quite sure she is associating the correct meaning. "It's…it's quite pleasant, isn't it?" Her face is still hidden from my view, but I can still almost see the smile on her lips.

I reply with a hum of agreement. Diana shifts atop me, relaxing and resting herself fully against me. I lift my hands to her, resting my left on the small of her back, my right behind her shoulders. I find myself taking comfort in Diana's closeness and I begin to stroke the back of her head and back down onto her shoulders very slowly.

I lose track of time. I lose myself in her warmth. I close my eyes after a short while and let myself relax. The quiet lulls me to sleep and, in a long moment between wakefulness and slumber, I realize that the proud princess of the Amazon people has fallen asleep on my chest.

A tap on the top of my left shoulder and my eyes flash open. I feel the sleeping Amazon atop me and lift my eyes without moving until a seemingly upside-down Alfred Pennyworth is centered in my view. "Dinner," he silently mouths, the movements of his lips exaggerated just enough that there will be no way for me to mistake him.

I give the smallest of nods and he smiles before leaving me alone to the task of rousing Diana. I wait until I'm sure he's left the room before I try anything. The pause gives me enough time to wonder just how dangerous a task I'm setting myself up for.

It isn't long before I realize I've run out of time to delay. "Diana," I try in a prodding whisper. I lift my right hand just a few inches, rub my thumb against the nape of her neck and around toward her left side. "Diana," I repeat in the same tone.

She takes an abrupt, deep inhale of breath. Her exhale begins with a strangely endearing moan of protest before slowing. Her hand moves on my chest as she gradually wakes up. "What is it, Bruce?" she finally asks, still a little groggy from her impromptu nap.

"It's time for dinner, Diana," I answer, hoping use of her name will help her focus.

It works. "Oh! Yes. Yes, of course," she says while beginning to lift herself from me. She pauses with her arms extended, most of her hair hanging forward over her shoulder in a way I don't think I've ever seen from her before. It's strangely attractive.

It's still growing. For a brief moment I'm aware of it, aware that it's always been there.

The insides of her legs brush past either side of my right leg as she lifts herself and then steps down to the floor, leaving me with the room to follow her to my feet. She takes a few moments to straighten her hair, sneaking her hands across her costume to smooth and straighten it as well—no doubt hoping to do so without drawing my attention. After standing, I take the opportunity to do the same before openly turning my focus to her.

I hook my right arm and offer it to her. "Shall we?" I smile, hoping she will not take offense at this example of the courtesies of 'Man's World'.

She stares almost blankly at my hand for a few moments of indecision. Finally, she reaches down to take it in her left. I twist my wrist to coax her hand where I want it, then take a step to set us off following Alfred to the dining hall.

Eventually, we reach the old man, finding him standing outside the doorway to the dining hall. We exchange a few quick pleasantries before Alfred lets us enter. Even then, he stops with his hand on the doorknob and turns back to me. "Before I forget, Master Bruce, I've advised Master Timothy and Miss Barbara of your plans for this evening. They've graciously offered to handle things while you're both otherwise occupied. We've also have arranged for Master Dick's assistance, should it become necessary."

_'I don't like it.'_ They're _my_ soldiers. _I_ should be there, watching over them to make sure they stay safe.

"Bruce…" A warning if ever I've heard one.

I turn to a stern-faced Diana. I glance sidelong to the equally austere Alfred. With a sigh, I close my eyes. It appears I don't have any choice in the matter. Deciding giving in to two voices of protest will be less troublesome than letting my stubbornness get the better of me and risk dealing with five, I convince myself to relax. _'All I can do is trust that I've done enough for them and hope that tonight's patrol will be uneventful.'_

"Alright," I concede aloud while opening my eyes. I see both Alfred and Diana relax. Diana even smiles and gives my hand an appreciative and affectionate squeeze.

Alfred refocuses us with a clearing of his throat and a push of the door. The dining hall is far darker than usual, but I can see lights set all about the room. Instead of bulbs, a series of scented candles are arranged all throughout. There isn't a single artificial source of light in all the hall.

It all seems to center attention on a small table near the far end of the room. A private table for two. _'He must have gotten Tim's help to pull out all the stops, maybe Barbara's, too.'_ Honestly, I'm impressed.

Diana steps inside first. I follow with Alfred behind me. My eyes drop to the gentle curve of Diana's backside before Alfred steps around and leads us to the table, giving me a meaningful look as he directs Diana to her seat. I take the hint and pull Diana's chair out for her, helping push her in after she sits down, despite her own unconvincing token protest.

After a few quick steps around the table, I take my seat opposite my date for the evening. Alfred waits no longer before breaking the silence. "Now, then, I'll leave you to get comfortable and I'll return in just a moment with your salads."

Diana thanks him, but I'd rather ask what the rest of our menu is. Unfortunately for me, he's gone quickly enough to make Wally proud. True to his word, he comes back within a minute with a plate of salad balanced on the fingertips of each hand. He serves Diana first and I watch with interest to see what he's prepared. Avocado.

I get a better look moments later when Alfred sets my helping down. "It looks absolutely delicious, Alfred," Diana compliments. She closes her eyes and leans a little closer, holding still for a moment before turning to our server and chef. "It smells quite nice, too."

He accentuates his humble thanks with a nod before leaving us to begin. Diana and I lift our forks and we each begin to eat at a leisurely pace. I can't help myself; in my mind, I make an inventory of the foods on my plate. Lettuce. The avocado. Oranges—and mandarin oranges at that. Nuts…almonds. Scallions. Raspberries. The dressing is a mix of various flavors that interests me to no end, though the only taste I'm sure of is the sweetness of honey.

Across from me, Diana occasionally hums with delight as she takes a new bite of her portion. I find myself eating more quickly, interrupting myself as I look up at her whenever she gives audible approval. I manage to keep my own responses under control, but I answer with smiles and nods of agreement whenever her gaze meets mine.

I reach for my drink as I finish, letting the cool liquid begin to flow over my lip before I realize Alfred neglected to give me something non-alcoholic. Diana takes a sip, too, though I know it isn't her first. I realize I have to drink it, she'd notice if I pretended not to. It's a spiced wine, sort of cinnamony.

Alfred comes in shortly after to collect our empty salad plates. "Oh, Alfred, what is this drink called?" Diana asks after once more complimenting him on the salad.

"Hippocras," is all I hear him say. The rest of their short conversation goes over my head. The word alone sets my mind to work trying to figure out why the name sounds familiar.

"Bruce?" Diana gently prods.

My eyes focus and I see that it's just Diana and I in the dining hall, Alfred has vanished once more. I give a little questioning hum to let her know she has my attention.

"Is something wrong? You seem distracted."

"No." I smile for her reassuringly. "Not at all."

Diana smiles back as she reaches toward the middle of our tiny table. She takes my hands, hooks her fingers against mine and pulls. I lean closer as she does the same. Our lips meet above the middle of the table and we share a relatively chaste kiss. I initiate our second.

I can feel it inside me. Even now, it grows, but I'm also realizing how far it's come without me being aware.

I can taste the hints of her wine and her salad on her lips. Both flavors are more delectable on her lips than they ever were in my glass and on my plate. I find myself wanting more.

Our third kiss is more passionate, with a hunger on both our parts that ends with a greedy taste of the inside of her lip by my tongue. We open our eyes to one another and Diana's gaze drops to stare at my lips until I lean back for another kiss. Below, on the table, our hands shift, palms turning down and fingers interlocking as we open our lips enough to taste one another experimentally.

In a word, I'd call our experiments a success.

We pause again and share lusty smiles, nearly grins, before leaning back for another kiss. Diana joyously moans against my lips and I can't help but reply in kind as the tip of her tongue explores my lips and mine hers in alternation, occasionally brushing by each other.

We draw our hands upward, toward our chins. I feel the table against my elbows and Diana's palms fully against my own. We renew our kiss again and again, shorter kisses broken up by the occasional breath and pause to smile lovingly at one another.

I spot movement a ways off behind Diana as we pause and lift my head quickly, moments before Alfred walks back in with a tray. We separate rather abruptly and I note her breathing and the mix of mirth and disappointment on her expression. I can't help but wonder how much my own reflects that look.

Alfred rests the edge of the tray against the table's edge to my right. Holding the tray up with one hand, he uses the other to move the two covered plates to Diana's setting and then mine. Finally, with the tray balanced on the table, he reaches out and grips both cover handles to pull them off at once.

A little puff of steam follows the covers upwards. I look down and again my mind does inventory. Salmon, filleted. Vegetables, broccoli heads and asparagus, probably steamed. Enough to fill, but not enough to stuff us.

Diana again compliments Alfred and this time, I do the same. "If it isn't too much trouble, Alfred, could I have some more of this wine?" Diana asks just before he turns to leave.

"Of course, Miss Diana. Let me set these down and I'll be right back with the bottle."

We both thank Alfred again before he excuses himself. Diana takes another sip of wine, leaving probably enough for one more before Alfred arrives with her refill. Meanwhile, I begin to cut my salmon fillet. I stare at it for a moment as I lift a modest piece of meat to my mouth.

_'A lemon dressing,'_ I note to myself before chewing.

I see Alfred coming back with the bottle held securely in both hands and suddenly, it hits me. _'Avocado, almond, raspberry, honey, salmon, asparagus, even the hippocras wine—he's loading us up with natural aphrodisiacs! Even the vanilla from the candles!'_ At least now I have a pretty good guess what he'll serve us for dessert.

He stops beside us and I glare, wishing beyond all else that I could blatantly ask him if he knows what he's doing. He pours Diana's drink and then refills mine. He leaves the closed bottle to my left on the far side of the table as he stands up straight.

He glances down at me and his stoic expression falters for just a brief instant as the barest of smiles narrows his eyes as it lifts his cheeks and the corners of his mouth. My brow rises before I can stop it. _'He knows!'_

"Will there be anything else?" he asks as if our silent exchange never happened.

"No, Alfred, thank you very much." I turn my attention to Diana as she speaks. She doesn't seem to have noticed.

Alfred asks us to enjoy ourselves before leaving us to our privacy once again. I watch Diana begin to eat and follow along, wondering how much of an effect the foods have already had on our passions. I can't help but wonder how much of our kiss just a few minutes ago was us and how much was the food.

But no, I'm lying to myself by looking to blame our food. I've felt it all along, no matter how much I want to avoid what will come of accepting it.

I do my best to relax. I hope that if I don't call attention to the intent of Alfred's cuisine, I'll at least keep the topic from her mind. _'That's all this sort of thing is, a placebo effect that works because we believe it does,'_ I tell myself.

Even so, Diana's hums and moans of enjoyment and approval are getting more and more distracting. "What do you think?" I ask before I realize the words have slipped past my lips.

Diana pauses, looking up and smiling. "Everything is wonderful, Bruce. I'll have to give Alfred my compliments again when he comes back."

She takes a few bites more and a rueful smile touches her lips. "I've forgotten how good food can be."

Her expression moves me. "I'm sure there's plenty more where this came from if you'd like to have more for later." I barely manage to avoid the faux pas of mentioning that she'll be eating those leftovers aboard the Watchtower.

"No, that's alright. This is enough for me." She smiles almost longingly. There's something left unsaid between us.

Trusting that Diana will explain herself if she wants to, I let her keep her silence as we both return to our meals. "So, Bruce, would you mind giving me an honest opinion?" I nod as I cut another forkful of my asparagus in half. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

I pause, look up from my food. There's some trepidation mixed in with the hopefulness in her eyes. My head begins to move on its own, a tiny nod. My mind finds no reason to disagree. "Yeah, I am. Much more than I'd expected," I answer so there will be no doubt.

"Me, too," she replies, with a bright smile and a newfound confidence.

We continue our meals, interrupting ourselves occasionally to conduct a little small talk. Gotham comes up, as well as the League, my adopted family, and Diana's mother and sisters. Inevitably, we talk about each other, too.

"You know, Bruce, I've always admired your fighting ability."

"Flattery, Diana? I'm surprised."

"I'm serious, Bruce," she protests. "I've always wanted to ask how you became so skilled. Now…just seemed like a good time to bring it up."

I smile with amusement. I pop a head of broccoli into my mouth and wait till I've swallowed before answering. "After college, I set out from Gotham and traveled the world. I found masters of every discipline I could who would be willing to teach me their skills.

"I met Yoru-sensei in Japan. I met my first real rival there, too. Kyodai Ken." I'm not sure what's making me tell this story, but looking across at Diana, I can at least be happy to see that she is very interested. "He bested me each time we sparred. It was Yoru-sensei who taught me to learn from my mistakes and my defeats, that not every loss spelled the end, and years later that the nature of my ways as Batman does not preclude me from being able to follow bushido."

"I imagine the 'master' that the ghost, Boston Brand, spoke of was another of your teachers."

"Yes. There were many. Not all were teachers of martial arts. I also studied under Zatanna's father, Giovanni Zatara."

"Hmm, I didn't think you were a fan of magic."

"I didn't go to him as a magician. I went to him as an escape artist."

"Ahh." I glance up from under my brow, see her nodding as she turns her attention back to her food. For some reason I start expecting her to ask if Zatara taught me how to slip away from persistent women, too.

Fortunately, the question never comes. Instead, we finish our meals in peace. After, I start to wonder if Alfred's watching us from the shadows or with a camera. It isn't long once we've both set our utensils down that Alfred returns again to fetch our emptied plates.

"And was everything to your liking?" he asks as he takes Diana's plate. It feels like he's asking her more than me, but ignoring the special favor he seems to be showing her, I'll grant that she is our guest.

"Yes, absolutely! Both the salad and salmon were excellent, Alfred," she answers as Alfred reaches down for mine.

I see the opportunity for information. "Yes, I agree. You've come up with quite the impromptu menu this evening." If I'm lucky, the old dog will slip and tip his hand, but he smiles in response—_smiles_! _'He knows me too well.'_ I can fish all I want, but he isn't giving up anything.

"Thank you, Master Bruce, but I merely threw together what we already had in stock. The hippocras has been in the wine cellar for quite some time and I felt it would be appropriate, considering it is named after an ancient Greek physician."

"Really?" Alfred and I turn to Diana. "Well, I mean I recognized the name as sounding Greek, but I don't think I've heard the name before. Who was this Hippocras?"

"Hippocrates, actually," I correct automatically.

Alfred nods as he begins to explain, "He was a physician, as I mentioned, who rather famously lifted medicine into its own field, separating it from matters of religion and philosophy. He is often thought of as the father of western medicine and even today, it is with the Hippocratic Oath that physicians swear to practice medicine honestly and ethically."

"That's quite impressive," Diana says after a quiet moment. There's a clear sense of pride she takes in having so influential a person coming from ancient Greece. I can't help but wonder if her mother and the rest of the Amazons of Themyscira were alive during Hippocrates' time or, if not, who preceded who.

"Indeed it is. Now, I'll be just a moment and I'll return with your desserts." Alfred steps back from the table, acknowledging Diana's thanks with a nod of his head before leaving again.

I notice Diana lean forward again and I react by meeting her over the middle of the table once more. We buss as we join our hands. I realize I'm really starting to enjoy the feel and taste of her. The idea is bothering me less and less with each new brush of her lips and tongue.

I cut us off again. It's with reluctance that we stop, even on my part. The only upside is that we're trading smiles and longing gazes when Alfred arrives with the final element of our dinner. It's easily better than hurriedly pulling apart. The whole thing makes me feel a little more like an adult and a little less like a sneaky teenager trying not to get caught.

Predictably, Alfred serves Diana first. We both watch with great interest as he sets her plate down. I feel my jaw slacken and barely keep my lips together through force of will alone. Across from me, Diana practically coos with delight.

Alfred beams with pride as he sets my serving before me. _'It's…it's a layered cake, a brownie, and a bowl of strawberries all at once…'_ It's in the shape of a wedge of cake. There are two layers of brownies, a layer of whipped cream and sliced strawberries in between. Another sheet of cream and strawberry is on the top layer of brownies, the whole thing capped with a modest drizzling of chocolate syrup.

"Now, then," Alfred distracts us both, "please enjoy yourselves to the fullest and, when you're done, feel free to leave the table as it is. I'll return to clean up after you've left the hall."

We again thank Alfred before he excuses himself, though mine is noticeably less excited and noticeably more dumbfounded. I hesitantly lift my fork toward the confectionary delight that almost seems to taunt me. Thoughts of Alfred's machinations cross my mind. I begin to think better of the dessert, not based on the purported aphrodisiacal properties of the abundance of chocolate, but on a nutritional basis. I try to think that such a thing will not help my fight against crime, but even as logic fights back, a little voice in the back of my mind chants that after such a delicious meal, it'd be a shame to skip the dessert.

Diana puts an end to my internal debate—unintentionally, I'm sure. While I'm focused on my own plate, she cuts the tip off her slice and lifts the bite to her lips. She moans joyously as her lips close around the neck of her fork. She sinks deeper into her chair as she pulls the fork free, leaving the treat on her tongue for a brief moment before starting to chew.

She hums with delight again and again until she finally swallows. "Oh, Bruce, you absolutely _have_ to try this." I'm a little slow to respond. "Here," she impatiently says as she picks herself back up in her chair. She leans forward, reaching toward my plate. She cuts the end off my slice and begins lifting it toward me. "Open up!" she urges, her tone and expression gentle, but masking something deeper that will show me no quarter.

Reluctantly, I open my mouth for her. A half-breath later, she pops her loaded fork into my mouth and I close my lips to pull the brownie cake free. The mix of tastes explodes on my tongue. My eyes widen with surprise. I almost can't believe the taste as I begin to chew.

"See?" is all Diana says as she leans back in her chair. She turns her fork over and puts it back in her mouth for a moment, watching me as I chew, mentally separating the tastes and checking to see if there's anything else that my visual assessment missed.

"It is really good," I admit once I finally swallow. I reach down, take another bite as Diana does the same.

We spend a few moments in silence, excepting the occasional delighted hum and the clinks of our utensils. Finally, I decide to return Diana's favor. As she finishes chewing another bite, I reach my own fork across the narrow gap between us and cut off a piece of her cake. I lift it to her mouth, telling her, "Your turn, Princess."

The corners of her lips pull up and she muffles a chuckle with her smile. Only after does she lean closer and open up to make way for me. My fork goes in a little high and I lean forward immediately. Diana closes her mouth and looks at me with curiosity as I move the fork out of my way and kiss her upper lip. She chuckles as I suck gently at her lip where the chocolate and cream ended up.

I take another bite for myself as we focus on one another. Diana chuckles again as she lifts another bite from her plate. She lifts her elbow onto the table and lifts her chin closer as she turns her hand at the wrist to deliver her next taste.

She gifts me a beautiful smile before beginning to chew, her eyes narrowing as the mirth and enjoyment brighten her face. I wonder as I get my next bite if I've ever seen Diana so happy. Somehow I doubt it, there's nothing that sticks out in my mind.

Again, Diana reaches for my plate. She lifts a forkful from my plate and I rest my wrists on the edge of the table to let her have her way. She brings the fork closer and closer, then pulls it back and pops the bite into her own mouth.

I furrow my brow in frustration. My retaliation is swift. I take a big bite from Diana's plate and eat it before she can protest. "Hey!" she playfully laughs once she swallows _my_ piece.

"Love and war, Princess. Everything's fair game." I chuckle victoriously as Diana's cute pouting gives way to an expression of frustration.

With a sudden determination to deny me any further tricks, Diana digs into the rest of her dessert. She chews quickly and occasionally looks up at me, guarding what remains on her plate with her fork ready in her hand until she is able to continue.

I watch her as she finishes, keeping an eye on her face and her fork to watch for any sudden movements. I'm not sure what she's planning, but she looks up from her empty plate with a sly grin that ends my amusement from her response. I move my hands toward my plate protectively, but they bump the table and a moment later nothing.

Before I can react, Diana is on her feet, holding the table up by its sole leg as if it were the stem of a champagne glass. She spins away from me, leaving me with nothing but my chair below and my fork in my hand. With perfect precision, she keeps the glasses and the bottle of hippocras balanced as she turns. I watch, too stunned to do anything, as she glances sidelong at me while, with a smile plastered across her lips, she turns the table and begins to eat the remains of my dessert.

I blink back the last of my surprise as Diana sets the table back down with care, then stand from my chair. "Ok. That just wasn't fair."

"Love and war, Bruce. Love and war." She smiles triumphantly and I toss my fork to the table while shaking my head in amusement. The pride drops from her expression after a moment and she steps closer to me. "So, Bruce, what are you going to do about it? We're both out of cake now…"

I look at the hope in her eyes and take her gentle suggestions for a cue. I reach out as I close the distance between us, grip her shoulders firmly, and pull her in for a hard kiss. She wastes no time and kisses me back quickly, setting my lips tingling as she hums against me.

I can feel it within me, growing stronger, more intense than I ever knew.

I stop, pull back, and Diana's hands begin to explore my sides and back as I encircle her shoulders and upper arms with my own. We hold each other's gaze for a short while longer. Occasionally, we come back for another quick kiss.

Finally, Diana breaks the comfortable silence to speak. "Is there…somewhere we can sit and watch the stars? Some place with an open view of the sky? Maybe a nice balcony?"

I lift my eyes, glance over Diana and to my right. _'I'm starting to wonder how far she plans for this night to go. This could make for a good way to test that.'_ An idea forms in my mind. "I have _just_ the place, but there's nowhere to sit, so I hope you don't mind carrying an outdoor couch up from below."

"If you'll carry the wine," she replies with a smirk.

I nod and she releases me. I open my arms and we separate, Diana waiting for me as I pick up our glasses and the bottle of hippocras. She hooks her arm around my left, still holding our two partly filled wine glasses.

I carefully lead us back to the foyer, making certain not to spill. I don't need the lecture from Alfred in the morning. Fortunately, neither glass has much in it and Diana makes no effort to unbalance me. She does, however, stay quite close and she also reaches across herself with her left arm to gently stroke my own even as her right remains wrapped around it.

I lead Diana upstairs, then down the hallway toward my bedroom. She _must _know where we're going from her time living here as a guest, but she doesn't say a word of protest as I open the door and lead her inside. I watch her as we cross the room to the door out to my private balcony. Her attention dances about my room and, I note, she bites her lower lip in a mix of what can only be anticipation and anxiety as her eyes linger on my bed.

She notices me looking her way and her cheeks brighten considerably as she snaps her focus forward again, looking out the windows at the large balcony just before I open the door. "Perfect!" she exclaims to cover for herself.

We approach the railing overlooking the back of the property and the water, with Gotham far off in the distance. I look down over the rail and point to the patio below, behind the living room downstairs. "If you can bring that couch up, we'll have a place to sit."

Diana nods as she releases my arm, then gives my left cheek a kiss before hopping over the rail. She floats down to the ground with an enchanting grace that alone nearly captures me, and then picks up the couch I pointed to. She lifts the piece of furniture up to about shoulder level before beginning to float back into the air. I sidestep, giving her as much room as she needs to center the couch on the balcony.

After standing up and quietly approving the couch's position to herself, Diana turns to me with a smile before dropping herself onto one end of the seat. I smile back and pass our two glasses to her before seating myself directly beside the Amazon princess.

Again, Diana leans into me on the couch, but this time we stay upright as we cuddle. I lift my arms, encircling her almost before she finishes settling against me. However, she pulls me forward immediately after we settle to retrieve our drinks from the floor. She hands me a glass, though I don't think either of us has paid careful enough attention to know for sure which is which anymore.

She leans back down for the second glass and the bottle. She sets the bottle to her right, but within arm's reach, electing herself purveyor of our wine. I nearly laugh, but she turns back at nearly the same time with a happy smile. She lifts her glass to mine hoping for a toast. Neither of us says a word, but I lift my glass, waiting for the telltale clink before we both lean back and take a reserved sip.

With that, I stop. As soon as Diana lowers her glass, I snatch it away from her and set it off to my left. I release Diana's far shoulder and stretch my arm out, barely enough to grasp the neck of the bottle. I quickly cross my hand in front of her, transferring the bottle to my left hand to set it near the glasses.

"Bruce, what are you—"

"We don't need it, Diana."

I turn the rest of the way back. "Maybe you don't, but I'm still a little nervous." Her lack of confidence moves me. Beyond that, it seems to vindicate me and my suspicions.

I raise my left hand to her chin, lift it to align our lips, then kiss her tenderly. "Trust me, Diana, we don't need it, _you_ don't need it." What I mean to say is that we need to maintain control of ourselves, something alcohol won't help. Yet for some reason, deep down, I fervently hope that she doesn't interpret it as a hard line in the sand.

It's with relief that I watch understanding color her gaze and her own relief wash over her expression. Her smile warms me to the core. My heart jumps a little when she moves, turning her whole body toward me to make kissing an easier task. I turn to my right and my lips meet hers to oblige her.

She moans softly against me. I wonder if it's a natural reaction or if she's figured out how much it's coming to affect me. We each begin to explore the other's body with our hands. On my chest. On her sides, just above her waist and the other gliding up over her ribs. The top of my thigh, a thumb tentatively exploring the top of my inner thigh. Her shoulder, across to the base of her neck on my way to her chin.

Her hand grows bolder, but very slowly. I break our kiss, leaning back to subtly cut her hand off. I reach around to the small of her back with my right hand and slip my left beneath her knees, pull her nearly onto my lap, her knees crossing over my thighs to hang to my right.

The new position doesn't seem to displease her. On the contrary, she giggles with delight. I wrap my arms back around her and we quickly resume our kisses. At each turn she matches me with fervor.

With each pulse of blood through my veins, I feel it grow stronger.

Her hands begin to work their way past my shirt and my light sweater. I can feel my control of the situation beginning to slip away. I stop again, leaning back and breaking away.

"Bruce?" Concern, confusion, a touch of apprehension. I can't quite blame her. I'm afraid of losing control—control of myself, control of our situation—but…I don't want it to end either.

I reach down to her waist as I reply with a silent smile. I lift her up and turn back, sitting almost normally against the patio couch. I seat her atop my thighs, then wrap my arms around her to pull her upper body back against my chest, my left hand on her stomach and my right on her shoulder.

Wrapping my right arm further, I touch my fingertips against the hinge of her jaw. With a gentle touch, I coax her into position while leaning my head over her left shoulder. I kiss the bare skin atop her shoulder before turning and taking her lips once more. I don't care if she can feel me through my pants, she can move her hands however she wants because I'm fairly sure I've cut off her easy access.

It isn't long after we resume our kiss that Diana finds a new use for her left hand, one that I find fairly pleasant as well. She lifts her hand to the back of my head, working her fingers into my hair before tugging at me in demand of more. Her other hand occupies itself along the outside of my thigh. It's certainly better than the alternative.

My right arm, meanwhile, begins to tire of holding the same position and I drop it back to the end of Diana's shoulder. I wrap my left further around her waist, pull her back and closer to my stomach. The movement lifts her head a little, so I lean back over the top of the couch. She leans back as well, arching herself with me until our heads are again comfortably even.

Before long, Diana's right hand leaves my leg. Soon after, she takes hold of my right hand and removes it from her shoulder. A moment later, she deposits it atop her right breast before cupping her hand encouragingly over my own.

My eyes flash open as I freeze, doing my best to control myself. _'If I lose it here…'_ Diana's lips continue to kiss at mine until she realizes I've stopped. She breaks away and opens her own eyes to regard me.

"Bruce?" she asks with concern. I don't need to answer. There's no doubt she understands my hesitation.

After a moment gazing lovingly into my eyes, she grants me a soothing smile. Her left hand leaves the back of my head and she bends her hand closer to my face. She rubs the back of her hand over my cheek. The tip of her middle finger traces my jaw. She lifts her hand, plays her fingertips along my hairline, sweeping my hair back as they move.

Finally, she again wraps her hand around behind my head while closing the narrow gap between our lips as she kisses me again. She uses her other hand to squeeze herself, using my hand as a proxy. I can't decide if my poor hand is a willing participant or a hapless victim, but I feel myself lose the debate as I begin to caress and squeeze her breast myself.

My left hand decides it's finished remaining idle. I caress her sides, rub my hand across her clothed stomach. The sound of my skin rubbing across her armor's magical fabrics joins the symphony of heated breaths and kissing that has already taken over my sense of sound.

As the seconds pass, my hands grow bolder, more aggressive. Our kissing grows more impassioned. Diana bites at my lip and I respond with a hard squeeze of both her breasts, at least so much as I can manage with the metal breastplate stretching across her chest.

Her teeth release me as she groans. I break my lips away and drop my hands down to her stomach. "Sorry," I hastily apologize.

There's no anger in her eyes as she reveals them to me. In fact, she regards me like a hunter would their prey. Her lips turn into a smile, then a grin.

Without a single word she begins to turn, settling again when she is laying atop me, facing me. Her face and her hair dominate my view, her dark locks forming walls on either side of us to block out the rest of the world. I can feel her legs straddling mine, her knees on either side of my hips, her feet hanging a few inches past the edge of the seat. Her hands are on my chest, her fingers evenly splayed as she rubs gently at me.

She kisses me again as her hands work their way down my sides. She presses herself against me, then moans lustily. I do my best to respond in kind, moaning back as I kiss her and lift my hands to caress the small of her back.

I feel it crest within my heart and I finally recognize the feeling. I want her. I desire her. I _love_ her. I have for as long as I can remember. I want to for the rest of my life.

For a moment, Diana's hands mimic my own, rubbing circles around my lower back. It doesn't last long. Her hands drop further, her elegant fingers slipping into my pants, hugging my skin as she reaches further and further. She squeezes my backside and pulls, then rises from atop me, clearing the way as she lifts me to my feet before her.

"You know, Bruce, I think you were right," she says in a low, husky voice.

"What about?"

She leans over my shoulder, lifting her hands out of my pants. She leaves one hand behind my back as the other rises to my shoulder below her chin. "About not needing the wine…" A meaningful whisper. She leaves me a few seconds to absorb and process her words. "I think we both know…"

My answer is a dumb nod made practically by reflex. I don't even begin to feel the weight of our impending reality until Diana takes a step back from me. She takes my hand and we share a loving smile before _I_ begin leading _her_ off the balcony and back inside. _'To my bedroom…'_ I finally note as I open the door.

Momentarily frozen in place once more, I stare at my bed in a way that's practically unfamiliar to me, all at once as a sought-after goal and an intimidatingly monumental step. Diana distracts me as she bends down, reaching for her boots to remove them. I turn my attention down and kick off my own shoes.

The timing works out well, or for Diana, anyway. As soon as I'm standing in my socks, she leads me the rest of the way to the bed. She urges me onto it first and I get a good look at her face as I lay down on my back and she moves to sit on her knees over me.

She seems brimming with confidence. Still, I can tell it's mostly a façade. I have to admire her efforts to hide her nervousness. I share her thoughts in that regard if no other. "Diana," I begin as she lifts her hands to the bottom edge of my sweater. She stops, lifts her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes betray her worry. I smile. "It's ok. Relax."

Surprise colors her expression for a brief instant before it's replaced with understanding. She smiles, leans down. "Thank you, Bruce," she whispers after gently kissing me.

She doesn't stay long, quickly lifting herself and walking back down my body on hands and knees. After stopping, she lowers herself again, her face almost at the level of my waist. Her hands again find the bottom of my sweater. She pulls it up, very quickly revealing the shirt tucked in beneath it.

After a deep breath, she grips the edges of the shirt and pulls it free of my pants. She brings her face closer and I hear as well as I feel her breathe very slowly, very deeply before beginning to kiss my bare skin as she slowly pushes my shirt and sweater higher and higher.

She keeps her face close as she works my clothes closer and closer to the top of my chest. Her breaths are long and relaxed, her kisses fairly frequent as she exposes more of my skin. "What are you doing?" I can't help but ask as I continue to watch, feel, and enjoy her work.

She looks up, her cheeks reddening before she looks back down at my chest. "Memorizing," she finally answers.

"Memorizing?"

Hesitation, as though she hopes it not to be true. "If this is to be our only chance together, I don't want to ever forget this night."

It's a little depressing knowing that the thing she is most sure of is that I will turn her away when the night is over. I feel the need to chide myself for letting the thought affect me so, but I can't. I can't bring myself to tell her that I'm beginning to _want_ to let her in, so I hold my tongue and let her continue.

Soon after, she arrives at my shoulders. I take her silent hints and lift my arms, letting her pull the two garments over my head. Her hands explore my arms until she returns her face to my chest. Her hands follow as she slowly lowers herself along me, this time free of other tasks and staying against my skin as she moves.

My anticipation builds and my heart pounds within my chest as Diana opens my belt and then my pants. I can feel each and every pulse of blood as it practically shoots to my extremities. She _ignores_ my tumescence as she begins to work her way down my left leg, though at least her hair still tickles its way over my sensitive skin as she slowly takes my pants and boxers toward my feet.

I calm slowly as she continues. By the time she pulls my clothes free and has removed my socks as well, I realize that she is kissing less often and relying more on her hands to caress my legs. Her hair once more graces me with at least some degree of sensation as she lifts herself again.

Her hands travel up my chest and I see her eyes are closed, making me wonder if they were ever open. I nearly ask her, but she halts me with a kiss. Shortly after, she answers my question unintentionally after she sits back on my knees and opens her eyes. She looks at me with a smile before drinking in the sight of me as her gaze drifts slowly down my body.

I finally get my answer when her eyes jump to my lap. I can see it in her shifting expression. Excitement. Nervousness. Elation. A mix of self-confidence and pride.

_'Yeah, you did that,'_ I nearly respond aloud. I can't help but smirk. Before Diana gets a chance to see it, I reach toward her, grab her just below the ribs, and drag her down and to my left.

She gives a little yelp of surprise and exclaims my name just as she lands against the mattress. Before she can regain her senses, I flip up, propping myself above her on my hands and knees. I drop down, touch my lips to hers for just a brief moment, but Diana's arms encircle my shoulders and she pulls me back for something deeper, more passionate.

After she releases me, I find myself looking once more into her eyes for permission to continue. She grants it by picking her head up from the bed to gently kiss me once again. She relaxes back against the bed, lifting herself just a little to place her head on a pillow. At the same time, I return her warm smile as best I can before turning my focus down her body.

I soon realize I have no idea how to begin. _'How on Earth does she get that gold girdle on and off?'_ I spend a long moment staring, but I see no obvious edges or latches.

Diana giggles with haughty amusement. "Is Bruce Wayne, Gotham's greatest playboy and noted womanizer, having difficulty figuring out how to disrobe a woman?"

"Stop enjoying it."

"Aww," she playfully teases, "but you're so cute when you don't know what you're doing…"

I cast an accusing glare down in Diana's direction and, with an endearing giggle and an infectious smile, she lifts her hands between us in surrender. I relax my expression and I'm a little surprised when Diana wraps her hands around and behind my head, pulling me down for another kiss. I let her kiss me, trusting as her hands work their way around to my chest and then down that she'll take care of my metallic roadblock.

Her hands reach my hips and she runs her fingertips down the tops of my thighs before they leave me completely. A moment later and I hear a few clicks, followed by the sound of metal clinking against metal. Diana's legs move against my own as she lifts herself up off the bed for a moment. She drops back down and I hear more metallic noises before she hums against my lips with her success.

Pulling back, I look immediately between us and find Diana's hands are holding the ring of her golden girdle against her stomach. It's whole, not to mention it still looks as solid as it did when I first started thinking about how to get it off her. She laughs again. "Don't ask, Bruce. Let's just leave it as a part of the magic, alright?"

I shake my head and chuckle amusedly. "Sure, Princess," I reply as I reach for the tiara wrapped around her forehead.

I turn back, spot the pile Diana made with my clothes on the floor near the foot of my bed and toss her tiara atop it, surprised to hear what sounds like another metallic impact. I brush it off before taking the girdle and then I toss it in with the rest. I look back to Diana and then notice that her bracelets are gone as well. "When did those come off?" I ask on impulse.

Diana looks down, lifts her hands and rubs her bare left wrist with her right hand. "About the same time as your socks."

I move on even as she answers, placing my hands on her hips and working my fingers underneath the sleeve of crimson wrapped around her torso. I get a feel for its elasticity and take a guess, assuming that it won't make it past her shoulders. Instead, I drop my fingers back to her waist and begin to pull, gently working it down.

I manage to forget that I'm uncovering her as I focus on the task at hand, my attention finally pulled northward as her golden breastplate falls to her ribs. Moving higher, I return her earlier treatment, kissing and caressing her as I continue to work at her garments. The frequent interruptions as I otherwise occupy my hands slows me considerably and Diana's hands leave my shoulders before long to push the red fabric the rest of the way past her hips.

"Bruce!" she half-breathes, half-whispers with urgency. I lift myself from just above her navel and kiss her. She pulls me down tight against herself, nearly crushing her breasts against my chest. The contact is electric—the yielding softness, the warmth, the intimacy of our bare skin. Her passion against my lips sends shivers down my spine and starts me twitching with need.

My heart and body no longer see reason to bother resisting it. Emotion will soon overtake me.

Diana releases me. I drop down again, return her kiss with one of my own briefly before I kiss her chin and begin trailing my lips back along her jaw and down. From left to right as I make my way down her neck. The dip in her collar. Lathering one breast and then the other with kisses. Along the bottom of her ribs. Around the dip of her navel.

Her breathing tells me a lot, as much as her hands rubbing against my shoulders and my back and my head, maybe even more. My lips reach her waist. I realize what's left and lift my head. Diana pulls her right hand from my back and touches her fingertip to my lips.

"Don't," she whispers before I can even ask with my expression. "You already know." I reply with a nod, then kiss her fingertip before it falls away.

I reach back up and grab the top edge of star-spangled blue. It crosses my mind that no matter what _on_ _Earth_ could have led Diana to visiting the retired Steven R. Trevor and no matter how close to or open with her other friends she is—and with Kent in particular—I have no doubt this is a side of the Amazon princess no one else has ever seen or will ever see, a side exclusive to me. A smirk touches my lips as I begin to pull.

My hands soon catch up to the tube of red and my task becomes easier as I pull both items down her legs at once. As Diana had done to me, I resume my kisses at the top of her thighs. She guides me with her voice, with the slow symphony of moans and the telling changes in her breathing.

After working my way back up her other leg, I ghost my lips up along her body, every few inches planting a kiss on her stomach, and then deep in the middle of her cleavage as I return to her lips. Her hands roam me without shame as we kiss.

Eventually, her gentle caresses give way to a loving grasp and her hand begins to move along me. I groan into her, work my left arm behind her to hold myself up and avoid having to balance myself on my knees and her lips. As soon as the weight is off my right, I take Diana's example to heart and let my hand wander, searching without pattern for whatever might illicit a response while avoiding the most obvious points.

I feel the tension beginning to truly build and I pay Diana's breasts another moment of attention before slowly, teasingly lowering my hand along her stomach. Her warmth—her _heat_—awes me. I again find myself exploring, looking for her response and being handsomely and quite regularly rewarded as she moans and groans against me.

Our hands take up more and more of our attention. It isn't long before our lips fall apart and, as I lift myself a little, I find we're both eager to gaze upon each other's face. Diana's hand speeds up for a moment and I reciprocate as best I can.

She continues, we both do. It begins to feel better and better, though I still become more and more concerned as it's much too soon for me to let her continue. "Diana," I nearly exclaim in a firm but urgent tone.

She hums through a smirk. It's all the answer I'm going to get. I free my right hand and grab hold of her wrist. "Stop," I say in as commanding a voice as I can muster.

To my relief, she obeys. The tensions within my body begin to fade. Her hand falls away and she lifts both to my sides just below my ribs. She cranes her neck forward and kisses me tenderly. Given our situation, I can't quite say it calms me.

In an instant, my perspective changes and I lose my orientation. Instead of the pillow and sheets behind Diana's head, I see her hair hanging down along her left cheek before it brushes against my right and I see my bedroom's ceiling beyond her. I realize she flipped us both over as I recognize the feel of the sheets against my back. My legs take another moment to catch up with my mind before I finally lower them to the mattress.

She splays her fingers across my lower chest as she picks herself up and sits nearly upright. She lifts one leg and then the other, leaning as she corrals my legs in between her own. Before long she settles again, straddling my thighs.

Her upper arms press her breasts together between them. Noticing them distracts me from trying to stare around myself to the apex of her legs. Her expression captures my attention next. I nearly laugh at the role reversal; _she_ is asking for _my_ permission. I cede my control with a nod as I lift my hands to her thighs and begin to caress her as unobtrusively as possible.

She grasps me very tenderly again. All her attention goes to her hand and we both watch as she works me very slowly with it. Finally, I assume when she feels she has gathered the courage, she stops. She lifts herself, walks forwards on her knees, and takes hold once more before she lowers herself again.

My eyes shift back and forth, up and down. She moves slowly, carefully. I watch her focused expression whenever I glance up. Her movement halts with each flash of sensation that furrows her brow or makes her jaw quiver. Even amidst the engulfing sensations, I can't enjoy myself to my fullest as I watch her cautiously press on. I want to ease her, but as my mind begins to swim in sensation, there's nothing I can think to say as she continues at her own, uneven pace.

Finally, she settles against me and begins to relax. Our focus falls to where we meet. Enveloped within such snug warmth, I feel myself melting. I feel like I'm becoming a part of Diana, as if we're becoming fluid and mixing. I lift my eyes to hers and see the pride and joy on her expression as she stares awed at our mutual achievement.

I relax more and more as we wait motionless. I don't think either of us knows why we're so still, but in the face of such sensations, I don't think it matters. I feel so connected to Diana now, so attached—physically, of course, but more importantly emotionally.

After what feels like an eternity, my eyes meet Diana's. I watch her as she wets her lips with her tongue and closes her mouth. She looks back down and begins to move against me. Her jaw falls open almost immediately, my own not faring much differently. We both moan as sensations anew begin sweeping over us, through us, and between us.

Diana's experimental motions gain confidence and she finds a comfortable rhythm. I watch her with fascination, awe, and a love that grows more and more apparent with each stroke, with the enjoyment and rapture that color her gorgeous visage. As I watch, her skin grows red, a blush that touches much of her chest like her cheeks above.

I feel myself relaxing further and further and further and begin to blink more slowly. Eventually, my eyelids pause as they close. Time passes and I bask in our pleasure. I hear her, feel her. Lying still beneath her, my head swims freely in the combined feedback from all my senses.

My thoughts come around and suddenly I realize I've fallen asleep and I abruptly return to the surface in a panic. My eyes nearly flash open, but I stop myself and try to open them as slowly as they closed. I immediately focus on Diana's face. Her joy is unrestrained. I sigh inwardly. _'She didn't notice…'_

I breathe another sigh, much deeper and aloud. I lift my knees behind her, bring my feet close. To avoid another mishap, and more importantly to avoid the embarrassment of being caught, I begin to take on a more active role, hoping my participation will stave off the temptation of total relaxation.

Diana certainly seems to enjoy my efforts. An appreciable side effect, to be sure. My eyes certainly appreciate the sight of her reactions, her open mouth widening for a moment before she can bring herself back under control. My ears certainly appreciate the sound of her breathing, nearly her panting as we refine our rhythms and our bodies fall naturally back into sync.

My name falls deliciously from her lips, interrupted by her breathing and distorted by her seeming shortness of breath. Shudders wrack her body. I glide my hands up Diana's legs, settling them around her waist as she begins to relax and slow down.

"Feeling better now, Diana?" I ask, surprised in hindsight that my own voice is as affected as hers by our exertions.

She closes her mouth, drawing her lips back in between her teeth as she begins to nod. The motion quickly accelerates and her mouth falls open again as I rock my hips against hers from below. "…Yeah!" she breathily exclaims.

A smirk lifts the corners of my lips and I see a spark of frustration flash across her expression. Immediately, she leans down. Our lips line up as she lays herself atop me. Her lips seal against mine for a brief moment as she presses her breasts more tightly against my chest.

Her hands travel quickly down my sides. She kisses at my lips, randomly throwing in the odd nip to retaliate for the smirk she must have seen as more condescending and less amused than I had in mind. I reach around to her backside while groaning the third time her teeth clamp around my lower lip. As her jaw loosens and my lip comes free, her hands reach around below my upper thighs and she pulls herself down, her body swallowing the whole of me once more.

We groan together as Diana lifts herself upright again. Her hands knock my lower legs out and a moment later I'm lying flat once more. My mind manages to set aside all sensation as I rush to try to come up with a new way to keep the immense pleasures from lulling me to asleep, though a tiny part of my mind realizes I don't need to anymore and I'm only trying to be a more active participant.

Thought of Diana's kiss comes back to me. I snap back, take notice of her hips grinding against mine. With a twist of my shoulders, I throw my left arm behind me as I lift myself up. I move my right hand up to her lower back and push further, chasing after her lips. She closes them when she realizes my intent, attempting to bring her breathing under control while tipping her head down for me.

After our lips meet, her hands make their way to my own back, helping hold me up. She moans against my lips and, in recognition of the tension building in my body, I reply equally enraptured. It isn't much longer before I feel her leaning me back. My right hand is along for the ride as she begins lifting her hips.

Her body moves tirelessly against mine. It's a steady and even pace, but still and so, the tension is building faster and faster. I'm beginning to have trouble fighting it back.

_'Definitely won't be long now…'_

My limit grows near, it won't be long before even total denial cannot stop me. Her grip on me relaxes. The tension escalates, concentrates.

I break my lips away. "Diana!" I warn while pulling my left arm out from under myself. I slip through her hands, landing back on the mattress while my hands go to the narrow of her waist.

She doesn't relent. I can hear her breathing growing more energetic, mine as well. "I'm…" I manage as the tension mounts.

My eyes close. My teeth clench. Diana's hips land insistently against mine. The tension crests and breaks as she comes to a full stop. I issue a long, low groan of pleasure as my grip around her waist tightens. My head comes off the pillow, my spine curves as my shoulders rise as well. It lasts but a moment before my body relaxes and I fall back. I get a brief rest before it happens again.

After four times in succession, I land flat once more. For the first time in what feels like an epoch, I begin to breathe. My first is a long, tired exhale. My whole body feels as though it's deflating, growing heavier as I sink back into the mattress below.

My gaze falls to Diana's waist. When my eyes close as I blink, I notice that I can't feel where I end and Diana begins. It sounds so cliché, but for all intents and purposes, it feels like we've become one. I lift my eyes along her body, hoping to see if Diana is thinking the same. Eventually, we meet one another's gaze. Her thoughts aren't exactly written on her face, but I can see the happiness and the sense of satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.

It isn't long before I notice my fatigue. I sort of hate playing to the stereotype, but my body seems to be telling me one thing and one thing only: I've done what I came here for. Now, looking up at Diana, my attention falls on her smile. She's happy, clearly, but that's not all there is to it.

While keeping her hips still, she leans forward over me. Her hands glide up my stomach and onto my chest, her arms coming together to again enhance and highlight her cleavage. "Say, Bruce…" I respond with an inquiring hum. "…if I…if I let you pick our next…arrangement, would you like to keep going? I don't think I'm ready for tonight to end just yet..."

I can't tell if seconds or years pass us by as we stare in silence. My body keeps telling me that everything is mission accomplished, but I find myself sharing Diana's wishes more and more. Finally, I feel something of a stirring sensation that tells me that a little patience will grant our shared wish. I nod, turn to my right to my end table.

We spend a bit of time separating and then getting ourselves ready once again. With a slow, gentle delicacy, we clean each other up. It isn't long before her nearly direct touch elicits further stirrings within me. My own touch sends the occasional small shiver through her body.

Soon after, our meticulous ministrations give way to something far more purposeful. We discard a handful of tissues between us and focus again on each other and what we plan to come next. Or at least what I plan, what I hope Diana will enjoy just as much as I know now from experience that I certainly will.

We lay down together and facing one another. We wrap the arm of our mattress-facing side under and around each other, leaving us just one hand each with which to tease and caress.

Diana's body poses little problem to my attentions. It's a bit embarrassing and frustrating that my own isn't ready yet, that my physiology considers Diana only as a woman when my heart and mind view her increasingly as something so much more.

She leans closer, pulling at my back at the same time. I oblige and we kiss passionately as, far below, her fingertips continue to tickle and tease at my skin. A glance at her expression as we separate blanks my mind. She isn't disappointed. She isn't frustrated.

_'Of course not..._' I realize. I'm pressing my own emotions on the most patient, most empathic woman I think I've ever met. After all her efforts over the years, I'm finally giving her the romance—albeit perhaps abbreviated—that she's always wanted, so of course she would find value even in such a pause as this.

My guilt and the weight of my impatience fade away. For the briefest of moments, I'm tempted to believe in coincidence when my body begins to at last respond to Diana's touch. I can't help but lean close once more and take her lips in a gentle caress, hoping she understands the wordless thanks for all that she is.

She gives a hum of appreciative recognition as her fingertips find me to be increasingly ready. She looks down my length toward her hand for a moment, smiling long before she lifts her gaze back to meet mine. Again Diana kisses me, though this time she wraps her hand around me as well. Her palm, her fingers, the warmth of her grip affects me almost as much as the slow pace her hand settles into as it glides back and forth along me.

"So, Bruce…" Her hand releases me. She turns it at the wrist and caresses me with the length of her hand. "…have you decided what you want?"

I give Diana a knowing smirk before evening my lips and nodding. After pulling my left hand from behind her, I lift myself upright. Without a word I reach down with both hands and wrap them around Diana's waist. I pull her closer, eliciting a surprised giggle before I lift my hands along her sides.

I dance my fingertips around to her back and lift them until my palms are centered over her lower shoulder blades. I pull her upright as I straighten. Again she laughs. "You know, Bruce, I would have sat up if you'd just asked."

I grin playfully. "Where's the fun in that, Princess?"

A moment later she leans closer and her hands cup my jaw. "I believe the fun..." She pauses and we share a few quick kisses. "...is in what comes after..."

I take a chance to laugh and Diana smiles back while straightening. "So, what's next, Bruce?" She leans back a little and spreads her arms. Her hands land on the mattress, bring her to a stop. I have to admit to being quite districted as her breasts settle.

I spend a few more moments admiring her naked beauty in the moonlight. It amazes me to find that, instead of calling me out for staring, she relaxes her shoulders, letting herself sink behind them as she lowers her chin toward her collar. An endearing blush touches her cheeks.

_'I'm doing this to her…'_ But of course that's not all there is. _'We're both showing each other sides we normally keep hidden…'_ All I can think of is what it means; there's something human between us, of course, but there's more to it than that. To be so open with one another, I realize there's a trust and a sense of security that goes beyond just being teammates, even beyond the emotions between us.

"Bruce?"

I shake my head as I snap back from my thoughts. "Sorry, I was just thinking about you…or rather, about us."

Diana's gaze drops to my lap for a moment. "I can certainly tell you were distracted." I look down, notice the same and feel the need to explain myself. I barely get her name out before she leans closer and puts a halting finger to my lips. "Until the end of the night, Bruce. I don't care what it is, I don't want your answer before then."

I nod. It's all I can do. I've already committed myself to this. I won't ruin the night by persisting against Diana's wishes. She reminds me that I'm supposed be telling her what we're doing next while her hands caress my chest, tracing the occasional scar as they descend gradually toward my lap.

"Yeah. Here…" I begin to answer. Diana's hands drop into my lap as I speak, her left takes me with a reinvigorating grasp, her right reaches below me teasingly. I lean back onto my own hands while ignoring Diana's as much as possible. I maneuver my legs into a circle, leaving something of a bucket seat for her directly in front of me. "…come and have a seat."

She catches on quickly, standing up on the mattress and walking toward me. She gingerly steps in and then past the gap between my legs. She stops with her calves lightly pressed against my sides just above my waist.

I stare enraptured as she pauses, baring all to me. The apex of her legs is nearly at eye level and above the gentle plane of her stomach, I can look up to see her face through her cleavage. The sight keeps thoughts of what we've already done fresh and inspires ideas for quite the intimate future.

At last she leans forward. "Don't enjoy yourself too much before we begin again, Bruce."

I lift my eyes from her breasts to her face as she speaks. Her hands come down on my shoulders. I smirk playfully. "Just don't think less of me, alright?"

Diana laughs, then comes closer, lifting me upright and bending her legs to drop down and kiss me. "Don't worry, Bruce..." She uses me for support as she lowers herself further. We both look down and I reach around to guide myself as she settles onto me. Neither of us can hold our silence as she envelops me and encircles me in her arms.

I raise my arms, likewise wrap them around Diana, hugging her closer and kissing her as we bask in our own private rapture. She smiles as our lips separate. "I think I'm really starting to appreciate why men pay so much attention to the female form."

"Glad to be of service," I jest. I drop my hands along her back. "Still, I'd appreciate it if you don't start flaunting yourself for the attention."

Diana's lips curve into an almost devilish grin. Her heels press against my coccyx and she pulls, pressing herself more tightly against me. A hot breath, cool in comparison to her heat, escapes my lips as Diana jests, "Is that a bit of possessiveness I detect, Bruce?" She leans closer, puts her hand behind my head as her lips stop beside my ear. "Would that make you..._jealous_, Bruce?" she asks in a sultry whisper.

I grasp Diana's rear tightly in both hands and rock my hips against her. She tenses and a shiver runs through her. I take advantage of her proximity and whisper back into her ear, "Somehow I get the feeling I won't have to worry about that..."

Diana stops. She leans back and stares at me. "What?" I finally ask.

"Nothing. Sorry."

I reply with a curious gaze, which Diana answers with a kiss. "...Take me." Another kiss before I can say anything. I obey, beginning to move against her once more.

Our voices soon fill my bedroom. We moan, we groan, and it isn't long before even Diana's breathing overshadows my own. Time and again my name breathily escapes her lips. Her hands roam the whole of my back seemingly without aim while mine remain planted on her backside for leverage.

I'm barely aware of my own reactions, focusing instead on Diana, encouraged and emboldened by every heightened breath, every utterance, and each little motion born from the sensations of our coupling. It's to my great enjoyment when, every so often, she reins herself in to kiss me hungrily. I do my best to match her before she backs off to regain the ability to breathe unhindered.

She's so amazing, so absolutely gorgeous, and she's mine, all mine. _'I want to see more. I want to see her peak. I want to share that pleasure with her.'_

I lean forward, forcing Diana back. She holds onto me as I lower my lips to her chest. I waste no time and kiss her flushed and supple breasts, highly doubting in this situation she would be paying enough attention to appreciate the warm, subtle puff of a breath or two bathing her skin before each time I touch her with my lips.

A hand finds my head, gently pulling me tighter against her breast. I respond with a tight squeeze and a pull of my lips. Diana's hand guides me to her unattended breast and she lets me give a repeat performance before my name again falls from her lips. A moment later, she pulls my head up with both hands and kisses me once more.

Her breathing continues to grow more labored. I can practically sense her approaching her peak. At the same time I realize how much closer she is than I am, how much further I am away from my unspoken goal.

"Hold tight," I tell her as I stop.

"What's wrong?" she asks, but I hold my silence, replying with a simple shake of the head.

I lift my left hand to the small of her back and hold her tight while I swing my right arm behind myself and lean onto it. With a bit of maneuvering, I get my legs bent properly and begin to rock forward, standing on my knees for a brief moment. After making sure there is enough room, I lean further, carefully lowering Diana onto her back on the mattress.

I keep us flush as we move, preventing us from separating, and press myself down atop her. She groans her enjoyment as I press my hips tighter, enough to slide her up along the sheets before I ease up and let her sink back into place. She pulls me in for another kiss as our bodies search for a comfortable rhythm.

It isn't entirely too long before she regains her lost momentum. This time I'm much more ready. Finally, her mouth gapes and her back begins to arch. She closes her mouth, but only for an instant before she begins to moan my name over and over and over again while at the same time beginning to shudder beneath me.

The sight of her in the throes of pleasure is the last thing I need before I too fall. My back arches up and away. I groan as I jolt once, twice, three times. As I then begin to calm, I notice that Diana's hands have been and are on my rear, holding me still and tight against her.

I notice as I look up to her face that we're both quite winded. She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue and then closes them to gift me with a loving smile. I return it as best I can before we both falter and try again to catch our breath and relax.

When we both seem to have ourselves under control again, I drop my lips back down to meet Diana's. I press her breasts between us as I relax my arms, letting her feel my full weight atop her. Her hands leave my backside to roam freely about my body as again and again and again we kiss.

Finally beset by my fatigue, I lift myself away. I lift my right knee, put it back down outside Diana's left and roll lazily to land beside her on the sheets. With an affectionate giggle, Diana takes my hand in hers and cranes her neck closer to kiss my cheek.

I turn my head to her and she plants another firmly on my lips. "Tired?" she jokes playfully. With a smirk and a humph, I turn my head and reach to the end table so we can again clean up after ourselves.

When we're finished adding to the waste basket, Diana and I lay back down together in the center of my bed. Nearly on a whim, I reach toward her, slip my right arm beneath her body and pull her toward me. With my left hand I straighten the sheets over us, moving the excess behind me as I tip myself toward her.

She hums her approval as she straightens beneath the sheets, resting her breasts against my chest, her right hip against mine, and intertwining our legs. "This alright?" I ask while she works her left arm below me and lifts her right to my chest.

I receive another hum as Diana kisses me. She then lays her head down beside mine on the pillow. "Yeah."

I pat my hand against her upper back before I begin to sink into the mattress again. It isn't long before I fall asleep. A single thought crosses my mind as my consciousness floats in the void of sleep: _'I'm glad Diana convinced me.'_

At last the void breaks. I'm sitting at a small table in the manor's kitchen. Alfred's nowhere in sight. There's a box of cereal and a carton of milk in front of me on the table, a spoon and an empty bowl at my place setting. I stare at it blankly for a few moments before reaching for the box.

My hand touches another as I go to grasp the box. I follow it back to my left, see Diana sitting beside me in nothing but a long white button-down shirt that looks suspiciously familiar, suspiciously mine. Her hair is unkempt, there's a lazy smile on her lips, and her eyes are alight with unadulterated happiness.

"Sorry," I tell her as I pull my hand back. "Go ahead."

She nods, begins to speak, but a yawn interrupts her. Her left hand comes up quickly to hide her mouth. "Mmm! Excuse me." She gives a little chuckle while lifting the box from the table. Her arm swings closer to me and with a light flick of her wrist, she taps the corner of the box against my forehead.

"What was that for?" I ask, not trying to accuse her, just curious.

"Nothing…just…" She smiles and shakes her head a moment later. Another chuckle before she pulls the cereal box to the gap between her and the edge of the table to open it. I look back to my bowl as I listen to Diana unrolling the end of the bag and start filling her own bowl.

"Bruce…"

I reply with an inquiring hum.

"Bruce?"

I continue to stare at my bowl. "What?"

"Bruce."

I feel a hand on my left shoulder. "What is it?"

"Bruce, wake up."

In that moment, I realize that I'm having a dream and that the voice I'm hearing isn't coming from within it. My eyes open to a dark room as I wake. I see Diana's face above me as she holds herself up. The moonlight plays beautifully across her skin and along her hair as most of it falls ahead of her shoulder once more.

Hidden deep under the sheets, I feel her hand rubbing gentle circles on my stomach. "What is it, Diana?" I ask in a gentle tone. It quickly occurs to me that Diana was waiting for me to speak, as no sooner do the words leave my mouth does her hand begin teasing my body to readiness once more.

She drops back down. For a few short breaths, she contents herself with hovering her lips over my own. After meeting my eyes with a gaze overflowing with affection and desire, she settles against me to claim my lips for herself.

She hums and moans, practically purring against my lips as we renew our kiss time and again. We match each other's passion, gradually escalating after and even before I lift my hands to her body to caress her soft skin. Diana pauses with her face just above mine when she finally stops and for a few breaths, we bathe each other in warmth from parted lips.

Another quick kiss, then a gentle, almost knowing smile, and her hand below unexpectedly leaves me. I feel the sheets shift as she brings her hand up to the top edge. Without a word, she lifts the sheet over her head and lifts herself from me to float toward the foot of my bed.

There're only a few things I can imagine she intends as she continues lower along me. Anticipation and uncertainty and something of disbelief weave the first threads of tension within my body. All I can do is wait for her next move.

After a few moments of silent stillness, during which I'm afraid I'll ruin her efforts if I ask what she's doing, I feel her plant a tentative kiss on my skin. A wave of sensation permeates me and I respond with a gasp and an involuntary twitch below her lips. She backs away with a surprised gasp of her own and I lay still as I try to assess what I felt. While not quite pleasurable on its own, it nonetheless felt good, though I think my enjoyment was more mental than physical.

As I finish my thoughts, I feel Diana's hands nearly beside one another against me. I don't feel her fingers, but the telltale feel of her knuckles gives her away. I'm tempted to ask what she's doing, but she preemptively answers my question when she surrounds me with the soft warmth of beautifully rounded flesh cupped in her hands. I can't help but think she decided to instead pick door number two.

"Sorry." A gentle whisper as I lower my hands to encouragingly caress and massage her shoulders. My hands dislodge a few locks of her hair and it falls from her shoulders to just above where she's working, about the bottom of my ribs. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She replies with a dismissing, forgiving hum. "I actually wanted to try this, too."

It strikes me as odd to hear her voice coming from so deep below my sheets and I nearly chuckle as it occurs to me how others might react to the situation. "How did you come up with this?" I ask in large part to distract myself.

"I...asked a few women in the League for advice...just in case I ever got this chance…"

_'For someone as proud as Diana...talking to someone else about men like that, looking for guidance...it must have been mortifying...'_ I try to come up with something to say, some way to vindicate her efforts, something more than just the physical. The power of simplicity finally strikes me. "Thank you, Diana."

She holds her silence, at least insofar as she doesn't say anything in response. Instead, she answers with a soft sigh of mixed relief and appreciation. Before we can interrupt ourselves again, she begins to move, sliding her warmth against me sensually.

It isn't long before she settles into a comfortable tempo. "How is it?" she asks eventually.

I hesitate before answering. "Good." In all honesty, I'm surprised. _'It's nice...but…without being able to see her…more of a rousing pleasure than something that makes me feel like I'm going to lose myself...'_

Eventually I feel the need to step things up a notch or so. I pull my hands from Diana's shoulders and slip them under her arms. She barely has time to ask my name before I lift her until we're again lying eye to eye.

It's a little comical seeing Diana's head pop out from beneath the sheets and I find myself smiling. "Need something?" she asks with amusement.

I reply with a kiss as I move my hands down her sides, ghosting my fingertips across her skin. Diana giggles before breaking her lips away. "Here, Bruce, let me help…"

She plants a quick kiss against my lips before lifting herself onto her hands and knees. She traces a line to the center of my chest with her right index finger and then dances her hand down between us. The gentle touch of Diana's fingertips guides us together once again as she gingerly settles herself atop me.

She kisses me first on her way down. Our lips slip apart and she next kisses my cheek before stopping with her mouth beside my left ear. We come together deep beneath the covers and I can almost hear Diana's jaw fall open. I certainly have no trouble discerning the moan of an exhale that immediately follows.

I feel Diana slip her hand out from between us as her left makes its way to my right cheek. The hand on my cheek presses insistently, coaxing my mouth to hers as she lifts her head from beside mine. When both her hands have completed their tasks, she slips them down, inside my own arms, and moves them to the sides of my waist. Our lips stay locked for a few moments more as her hands reach farther, first to align with my legs on my hips, then to reach underneath me to grasp my backside.

Her fingers spread and she squeezes my flesh, using her grip as leverage while pulling her body tight. Our lips come apart as a groan of enjoyment escapes her and I let loose a long exhale of my own without a care to measure the volume of my voice. She gives us both a few moments to adjust to one another, to reacquaint ourselves with increasingly familiar sensations.

I take advantage of the break to roam my hands across her skin. My hands visit every inch of her sides and her back. I rub her shoulders and run my hands down her arms and back up. I cup her rear in both hands and spend a few moments caressing her. I even stroke my hands over her head before losing my fingertips within her dark mane as it flows down along her back.

She seems to wait patiently for my hands to complete their tour of her body. The moment my fingers escape the tips of her hair and come to rest below on the small of her back, she lifts her chin over my left shoulder and begins to move against me. As if the pleasure of her warmth, the sensations of her body from head to toe moving against me were not enough, the arrangement of our heads puts her in the perfect position to bathe my ear with her hot breath and fill my head with her arousing voice.

Diana is in total control. I don't even have the room to move against her. Her tight grip on my backside ensures that my body will stay where she wills it. She gives me a short reprieve as she bites her lower lip and hums. The short silence gives me but a moment to think. _'If I ever get another chance, I know exactly what I'm doing to you…'_

For a moment, I consider repeating myself aloud, but Diana pulls herself tight again and I groan. At the same time, her lip pops free and she gasps against my ear as she answers her lungs' demand for fresh air. A warm shiver runs through me as I listen to her continue breathing across my ear.

I realize there is one simple thing I can do. While tucking my chin as close to my chest as I can, I lift my left hand to Diana's ear and pull her hair clear while closing in on her neck. She responds with approval as I plant kisses randomly across the top of her left shoulder and up the side of her neck, all the way up to the bottom of her ear.

The occasional gasp of my name interrupts her moans and I grace her skin with an extra kiss before moving on. I do my best to memorize my trail, despite the best distractions from below and in my ear. I particularly enjoy her reactions where her trapezius muscles meet the side of her neck. When I've left the spot alone for long enough, I revisit it with a quick, sharp nip. Diana draws in a deep breath and a shudder runs its course through her body.

I leave a tender kiss on the reddened marks left by my teeth, then let my jaw slacken and part my lips. I seal my lips against her skin and begin with a gentle suck. After letting Diana enjoy herself for a few moments, I increase the pressure and nibble at her skin before suddenly letting go and kissing my way back up to her ear.

"Diana," I breathe before kissing the bottom tip of her earlobe. She hums with delight. I say her name again in a low, husky whisper before kissing her tragus.

Diana calms as I leave her bright new love bite alone and restrict myself to kissing only her shoulder and only her neck. In what seems like a bid to regain control, she tightens her grip on my backside and moves against me with a renewed vigor. I almost wonder if she meant it as the first in a sort of one-two punch when she begins to really let her voice go. Listening to her pleasure in my ear affects me nearly as much as the sensations we share between us.

I groan again, mutter Diana's name, then nearly interrupt myself as a wave of pleasure sweeps across me and I suck in a breath. Diana giggles with delighted amusement. It comes off as decidedly haughty, so I respond with another assault on the base of her neck. I nearly grin into her neck when she settles against me and lets out a long, staggered exhale.

Not long after, she begins to moan again, but cuts herself short by biting her lip. Still, it isn't enough to keep her silent; something of a strained whine escapes her throat only to be muffled within her mouth. Another gasp and her mouth comes open once more.

"Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce," she practically chants. Each utterance of my name feels like a wave trying to breach a levee. My self-control is the only thing keeping her voice from sweeping me up and I'm quickly losing strength with which to maintain myself.

I detach myself from the base of her neck once more. At the same time, Diana's hands pull at my backside, lifting me up even as she presses me back down with her hips, grinding hard against me. I suck in a deep breath, kicking off the subsequent exhale by breathily exclaiming, "Diana!"

Not long after, Diana begins to tense, her movements nearly frantic. I know what's about to happen and I will myself to hold out for just a bit longer for her. Finally it happens. She issues a drawn-out groan of satisfaction and the tension within her brings her to the briefest of pauses. Her legs close tighter around my own, her feet hooking over my lower legs and holding them still. One by one, shudders wrack her body.

In the end, it's her voice that sets me off. My hands meet on the center of her back before I drop them down to the swell of her rear. As the tension begins to crest, I try one last time to hold on and stop myself, but I feel it's a foregone conclusion that she won't let me go, so I let myself slip. While tightening my own grip, I pull her down against me. At the same time, my back arches like Diana's just before mine.

All the pressure and tension drain from me. I take my turn groaning, as much an automatic response as it is an answer to Diana and her labored breaths as the last of her tension fades away and leaves her ready to relax and bask. I follow her back down as she settles against me and I sink into the mattress behind me.

As we continue trying to catch our breath, Diana lifts her head from beside mine. I feel more tired now than when I last fell asleep, than when I last came back in from a patrol. Our settings tempt me back toward sleep, but still I tip my head and respond when her lips align with mine.

She releases me from her grip and her hands leisurely work their way up my sides. Even when she wraps her hands behind my back and over the tops of my shoulders, it's as if I can still feel the imprints her fingers left behind. She lifts herself away for a moment, pulling her hands from behind me and propping herself up.

The corners of her lips curl into a brighter smile and she lifts her right hand to guide her hair back into place behind her ear. I lift my hands to her breasts. They're too open, too tempting a target to ignore. I caress her, play my thumbs about her supple flesh.

She chuckles before returning her left arm to its place behind me and lifting her right hand behind my head. Again she comes down for a kiss, pressing her chest back against mine and stilling my hands while trapping them between us. She whispers my name almost dreamily just before our lips meet.

For the moment, I merely respond. My hands can wait before I free them. My arms aren't exactly bent awkwardly and, it's not worth denying, I'm happy with where they are. Still, I _would_ like to be able to embrace her while we kiss.

Diana denies me the chance, coming up for air and lifting her face away, pausing for a brief moment with the sides of our noses rubbing heartwarmingly against each other. I gaze into her eyes as she lingers above me, but I can't bring myself to speak. Two things hang over my head: first, that Diana doesn't want my answer before the end of the night, and second, that the mood between us is too perfect to ruin with words—_any_ words.

With care and speed, I work my hands from Diana's breasts and lift them to her cheeks. I cup her face with my hands, my pinkies behind her ears, my thumbs running parallel to her nose over the fronts of her cheeks, the rest of my fingers reaching up toward her temples. With a gentle pull, I coax her back down, lifting my own head to meet her for another kiss. I have no qualms with thanking her, with expressing myself with my lips.

We're both filled with passion, but our lips move slowly. She hums against me and I reply with something more of a groan. Eventually, she lifts herself again and I do nothing to resist her, instead slipping my fingertips back and into her hair. I work my hands through her soft sheets of silky sable, pulling a few errant locks back behind her shoulders before my hands come free and I begin caressing the sides of her back just below her ribs.

Diana laughs again before I feel her moving her legs. I lift an eyebrow to ask the silent question, but she remains silent, though I can't be sure if it's because of the low light. She lifts her whole body from atop mine and rolls back to my right, leaving me feeling cold and lacking even before her motions pull a cool section of the sheets down atop me.

An almost silent sigh of disappointment escapes my throat before I turn to the end table beside my bed. Not long after, we've added another fistful of trash to the waste basket and we're back together in the middle of my large bed, cuddling comfortably. We share another kiss before we both relax once more.

_'I wonder if she'll wake me again before dawn…'_ I can't help but think to myself before my thoughts fall away and sleep reclaims me. I'm undeniably hopeful.

After another instant in the void, I wake up with a very singular urge. I throw my covers to my right, turn left, and climb out of bed. A minute later and I'm standing beside my bathroom's rarely used bathtub waiting for it to fill.

I feel a small wisp of a breeze and look down, realizing I'm nude. It seems like a good idea, so I climb into the tub, even though it isn't nearly full.

There's barely enough water for it to come up above my hips as I sit down. At least the water is warm, quite pleasantly in fact. That's when I notice something strange: there isn't enough room for me to extend my legs.

It isn't long before I feel my discomfort fade. The slowly rising water seems to help. The warmth from the water sweeps over me. The current from the faucet enhances the sensations.

For some reason, the wetness and warmth rouse me. It begins to feel better and better and I notice the water is rising faster now. I feel a sudden sense of alarm and urgency. Finally, it hits me: I'm dreaming.

The shock of the realization returns me abruptly to the waking world. The dream takes on heavy symbolic meaning as I quickly recognize the source of the warmth and wetness I felt. A shiver runs down my legs as I lift my hands to Diana. They meet her hair deep beneath our covers and I gasp as my moving target pauses. "Diana!" I exclaim when she resumes.

_'How did was that dream? I just woke up and Diana already has me__ struggling to hold back__!'_

My legs begin to flex on their own again and again as I try desperately to hold myself back. Applying just a fraction of her strength, she renders my efforts to stop her futile. Even so, her touch remains deliciously delicate.

I'm running out of time and fast. "Diana, you have to—" I cut myself off as a moan interrupts me. "Diana, stop! I'm—"

The tension begins to crest, arresting my voice. I have enough presence of mind to fear for a split second that my body will offer up the wrong reward for Diana's efforts, but as my muscles tighten, I can at least be relieved that it won't mistake the proper response. I groan loudly as my body expends the accumulated tensions. Once or twice I mutter her name.

My body sinks deeper into the mattress. I feel the sheets shifting as Diana lifts herself upright. A curious look is plastered across her face, something between humor, surprise, and displeasure. She lifts a hand to her mouth, presses the side of her curled index finger to her lips, then coughs quietly to clear her throat before swallowing.

"I'll have to…_thank_ Shayera for that suggestion…" she comments as I slide and sit up as well.

"I did try to warn you, Princess. It's said to be an acquired taste."

She cocks her head to the side a little as she gives me a humorless smile and regards me with both disbelief and accusation. Her lips draw back a little further into a smirk. "Quiet, you!" she exclaims playfully while pushing against my chest, knocking me down again.

Almost as soon as my head crashes back against the pillow Diana is atop me. Her lips waste no time finding mine. I note a new taste on her lips and tongue as our kiss deepens. It takes but a moment before I realize what it is. I groan in protest, but against my gorgeous lover, it's weak and we both know it. She doesn't let up and a chuckle escapes her throat, muffled between our lips as we continue.

She lifts her face from mine, gazes lovingly at me as her amusement fades away. I'm not so quick to put it behind me. _'You enjoy my discomfort? Let's see how you like it with the tables turned…'_

I glide my hands down Diana's sides, my index fingers carrying the sheet in tow before I stop with them resting on her hips. I guide her onto her back to my left. As I turn onto my left side to face her, I slip my left arm behind her to restrain both of her arms behind her own back. Lastly, I hook my left leg around her right, pull it closer.

"Bruce?" she asks innocently enough, unconcerned and unthreatened but certainly curious.

I drop my head to the pillow, aligning my lips with her right ear. "Relax, Princess," I answer as soothingly as possible, then lift my head and give her a gentle kiss.

Her arms relax and I feel the tension drain from her body as our lips work a casual magic against one another. When she seems ready, I lift my unoccupied right hand and center it just below Diana's sternum. The very tips of my fingers touch her soft skin and I ghost them down over her stomach and past her navel.

She shivers below my touch and I slow my hand's descent as I lift my lips away. Diana opens her eyes and they dance across my face as she tries to figure out my plan for what's next. I smile knowingly, but offer nothing more. My fingers cross from abdomen to pelvis and I notice Diana swing her left leg a little further away.

A glance back to her face and I see her catch her lower lip between her teeth before closing her mouth and holding her breath. My smile broadens as my fingers turn from their obvious path. With the same light touch, I glide my fingers to her right inner thigh. Her breath escapes her in a gentle gasp as I trace circles along her sensitive skin. The breath ends with another utterance of my name.

I hum inquisitively as my fingertips linger for a moment. She opens her mouth to speak and I drop my fingers to the backside of her thigh before dragging them back up to her inner thigh. Diana's expression hardens for a brief moment, just long enough for her to speak. "Stop teasing," she orders.

With a nod, I lean back in and make to kiss her. She turns her lips toward me and as the sensation of contact fills me, I bring my hand back along her thigh to the apex of her legs with clear purpose. After delaying for as long as I care to dare, my fingers finally find her. I relax my lips a little, let her take over our kiss as my hand takes command below.

I crack my left eye to watch her and listen intently as she reacts to each motion from my fingers. I feel movement from her legs as she bends them. Her right stops short against the resistance of my own legs still hooked around it, but I feel the sheets continuing to shift as she bends her left.

The first moan escapes her and I swallow it greedily as I feel her leg pull at mine insistently. My fingers continue and I earn myself another moan from Diana. With my body pressed to her side, I'm intimately aware as she leverages her legs' positions, pulling herself down against my fingers.

She can have her way for now, so I let my fingers oblige her, but I pull my head back, tearing my lips from hers. She moans in protest and chases after me with her lips. I take advantage of my left hand's position and pull her left arm further behind her back, keeping her down just enough to deny her renewing our kiss.

She realizes it and relents, dropping herself back with a frustrated huff. "If you're not going to let go, the least you could do is let me kiss you."

I ignore her comment for a moment, chuckling through my smile. My eyes graze her expression as two fingers slip in past her defenses. I watch enraptured as the displeasure falls from her face and she lets herself sink deeper into the mattress below. Her eyes flutter and her jaw loosens as I explore.

Suddenly she jumps, her eyes flashing open, widening. She gasps my name and I hastily turn my fingers elsewhere. "No, no, no! Bruce, go back!" she exclaims excitedly while lifting her head to look down her body toward where my hand disappears out of her sight. I suppress a playful grin and let my hand loiter for a few moments more as her hips begin to lift against my hand.

"Bruce!" she pleads before I finally give in and grant her wish. Her head falls back as she lets loose a loud sigh that fades into another moan. Almost as quickly afterward, she picks her head up and stares down herself again, her jaw falling open as her breathing steadily increases its pace.

My hand stays with her, my fingers caressing, rubbing, teasing. Eventually, her legs begin to flex and soon after she bites her lip once more. Her head tips back, still off the pillow as she looks up toward the ceiling. I can practically see her release coming. Just before she can reach it, I deny her, pulling my hand back to gently caress her with just the pad of my middle finger.

She turns her head to admonish me—I'm all but certain—when I resume my work. She groans and her head falls, her right ear to the pillow. With a bit of extra effort, I bring her right back to the edge, then do my best to hold her there without letting her fall.

Diana is more than content for a while, but I still don't have to wait long for her frustration to overshadow her pleasure. First, she groans my name. Second, she demands I stop teasing her. She gives me a moment to comply and when I don't, she turns to threats. "Stop teasing and let me go!" I answer with silence and momentarily still my hand. "If you don't let go, I'll break your arm to free mine and finish myself!"

I lean down, address the frustration on her expression with my hand, pull her closer to the edge as I kiss her. The move probably saves me a few tooth-shaped holes in my lip. I slow my fingers as I pull my lips away. "Bad call, Princess. It'd be difficult for me to perform with a broken arm. Very painful and very distracting," I advise devilishly.

Her face reddens with anger, so I give her another moment's satisfaction. When I stop, she's regarding me with a smug smile of her own. "Bruce…" she begins in an almost sing-song voice, "last…chance…"

I pause unintentionally, surprising even myself. There's something about her tone, about her inflection for the word 'last', and in her smile that sends a cold shiver down my spine—_my_ spine. It isn't much longer before I realize she's waiting for me and I quickly make the effort to nod in reply as I return my fingers to action while telling myself that I've made her wait long enough.

I see her appreciation almost immediately. It doesn't take long for her hips to again move against my hand and her moans begin again shortly after. Once more she lifts her head to watch, but I keep my attention on her face, on her quivering jaw, on her chest rising and falling more quickly as her breathing gets shorter and shallower.

She utters my name with difficulty and her head falls back. She opens her mouth a few times, though failing to form any words, and then finally succeeds as she tips her head further back, lifting her shoulders and then much of her back from the mattress. "Don't…sto—" Her voice falls apart before she can finish and she issues a loud groan of pleasure.

Without wasting any time, I begin to move. I release her arms and lift myself onto my left elbow. My knees are next as I lift my hips from the mattress. I straighten my left leg briefly while maneuvering it inside Diana's right. I pull my right hand from her, holding it close for just long enough to ready its replacement.

She closes her mouth and lifts her head to look at me just before I begin to settle down against her. At the same time, realizing her hands are free, they shoot out from behind her and she wraps her hands behind my back. Her palms settle on my rear for at least the second or third time since we made it back to my room and she pulls me in tight.

I moan at the intensity of her heat around me, Diana unable to remain quiet herself. Her hands practically rush up my back, one stalling between my shoulder blades, the other making it all the way up to the back of my head to pull me in for a kiss. I do my best to answer the passion on her lips as she meanwhile lifts her legs, pressing her feet against me high on the backs of my thighs.

Lips aside, I don't let myself stay still for long, moving against Diana while slipping my hands behind her. I nearly mirror her, working one behind her head and nestling the other in to caress the small of her back. We quickly find a mutually beneficial rhythm and I hope that I've set her up for another quick fall.

Slowly but surely, the night's past efforts begin to catch up to me. I barely manage to contain my amusement when I realize Diana's done more to wear me out than most nights on patrol. In my defense, however, I've had fewer coffee breaks even if I have slept more than most of my nights in the cowl.

Diana interrupts our series of impassioned kisses for me a moment later. She gasps as she pulls my head face-first into the pillow beside hers and once again, the Amazon princess's lips are perfectly positioned at my ear. Her moans, her gasps, and her partly successful attempts to breathe and say my name at once drive back my tiredness, pushing me to continue.

Finally, the hand behind my head tightens, fingers arching as she pulls her fingertips closer to her palm. Her other hand jumps about my back, pulling me down against her and up along her, jumping lower on my back before pulling again. Her hand eventually comes to rest pulling at the small of my back, pressing our stomachs tightly together. Her feet slip as well, her legs closing around mine and her heels crossing behind me and digging into my rear.

Again, her voice fills my head, at first my name, but ending in something wordless as she arches up against me. Her tightening grip on me is an urgent cry of its own and my body sees fit to answer the only way it knows how. I press against her and my own back arches up and away, leaving her room to follow, though I still help her along, pulling her close with my hand behind her back.

"Diana!" I cry while I can still form words, my voice mostly muffled by the pillow. All the while, I listen as she repeatedly gasps into my ear, letting slip tiny breaths after each one while I try my best to hold myself still and tight against her.

Tiredness again catches up to me as we both drift back down. Our hands relax behind each other's heads and we sink back down into the mattress together. Diana's legs straighten a bit, barely remaining wrapped around my own.

I don't want to move and for now, Diana doesn't seem at all to mind the weight of me atop her, but I know it's no way for either of us to sleep. There isn't much keeping me awake anymore, so I lift myself while I'm still able, planting an affectionate kiss on her lips before rolling away to lay beside her once more.

We hold one another's gaze as I move. I see her smile and reply with one of my own before I feel her hand take mine between us. Without a single word, she leans closer. I twist my shoulders, bring my lips to hers and we share one last kiss before relaxing back into the pillow.

We close our eyes in, from what I am able to see, what looks like perfect unison. I feel her hand relaxing before realizing my own grip is loosening as well. I fall asleep moments later, my head once again full of Diana, but this time, instead of her voice, with the realization I made earlier, with the love I hold for the woman beside me.

My thoughts slowly fade as I sleep. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn to hours. As quickly as I fell asleep, I feel myself waking up. The sunlight is bright against my eyelids and I hesitate to open my eyes.

Diana returns to my thoughts and I quickly recall the entirety of our night together. I grow more fully aware as I look forward to telling her my answer, as I look forward to letting her in. My mood is dampened only by the realization that our hands are no longer joined.

I open my eyes, but the sun blinds me, burning an image into my eyes even as I quickly close them again. I hold them closed, but before long, my mind processes the fleeting image and I begin to scramble, lifting myself up with both arms and opening my eyes toward the mattress before me.

My jaw falls open and I twist to look behind me, unbalancing myself in my haste and falling down. I stare wide-eyed into my shadow. I roll onto my back, lift myself upright, then look to the door to the master bathroom. It's cracked open, completely dark inside. The energy drains from my body and I lower my gaze back to the foot of my bed.

Empty.

Eventually, I gather myself up, push the covers aside and lift myself to my feet beside my bed. I look down for a moment, noting my nudity before lifting my eyes toward my bureau and spotting the pile of clothes near my feet. My clothes and nothing but.

I ball my hands into tight fists for a moment, but I can't hold onto the frustration. I note a new emptiness within me as I bend down and grasp my boxers in one hand, gather the rest of the pile in my other hand and toss it back onto the bed.

With deliberate slowness, I slip my legs one at a time into the undergarments. When done, I reach back and pick up the rest of my clothes before taking them back to the bureau.

I cannot believe that Diana would simply leave without a word. It's easier to believe it was all a dream, a fantasy. She could have easily left after I'd inebriated myself on that wine and the rest of the night could have been a lonely fantasy.

I resolve to confirm my theory and search my room for some sign that she was ever here to begin with. It isn't long before something catches my eye. Barely a few steps from the edge of my bed, I stop and turn to the end table.

My hand gradually falls open and my socks, my shirt, and my pants slip free one after another to fall to the floor. The hole in my heart deepens and widens. All thought vanishes from my head. I stare at the small object beside the tissue box, tipped on its side, facing the windows and the rising sun.

It's hardly bigger than a thumbtack, but I have no trouble recognizing it. I engineered it myself. It's one of the originals, so I know I manufactured most of its components, wired, and assembled it myself.

After a long pause, I see myself reaching forward with an odd sense of detachment. My right hand closes over it but I can't feel it, can't even feel my hand or my arm as my hand approaches my face. The closed fist turns over and opens.

Diana's communicator.

A moment more and I feel my body come back under my full control. My hand closes again and I turn abruptly, crossing the room with fast, heavy steps. I extend my right index finger as I reach toward a book on the bottom shelf of a bookcase built into the wall. I tip the book out and as I release it, the shelving reconfigures itself, revealing a hidden console at waist level.

I pull out the small bud of an earpiece attached by wire to the side of the console, insert it into my left ear and set my hands to work at the keys. "Batman to Wonder Woman," I say after the eternity it takes for me to tunnel into the League's systems.

My heart sinks as I hear the faint sound of my own voice coming from the device in my right hand.

I grit my teeth and my left hand closes into a fist as my right tightens. My lip quivers in frustration and I lift my left hand, striking the spines on the row of books on the shelf above.

I feel the corner I've backed myself into, sense my lack of options, the dearth of routes she's left open to me. Finally it hits me. _'If something were to happen, she'd have told her best friend.'_

"Batman to Superman!"

I grind my teeth as I wait for the system to connect me, swearing a thousand times over that I'm going to redesign the whole thing from the ground up so that it can process requests even a second faster. Finally I hear the system establish the line, but I don't wait for the Kryptonian to answer before I speak again.

"Where is she, Kent?" I demand, nearly yell. I don't care what I sound like, I just have to know.

His voice is small, almost weak. "She's gone…" It's almost as much of a question as it is a statement.

Once again, all my thoughts stop and my heart sinks.

"Diana's gone, Bruce," he accuses harshly. He allows a brief pause and his words sink slowly, painfully into my head. "She left us, left the League, went back to the island…and _you_ didn't stop her!" His voice rises with each word, ending with a shout that would have hurt just as much if it had been a faint whisper.

A moment later, the channel is dead and I'm alone in my room once more. I take a step back, then another and the wire goes taught. I turn away and walk back to the edge of my bed, nearly unaware as the earpiece falls away, hitting the bottom row of books with a soft tap...once...twice...and a third time as it bounces a few times off the books below.

I sit down on the edge of my bed as the earpiece comes to rest, hanging down on its wire nearly to the floor. I spread my knees apart as I lean forward, rest my forearms across my thighs. I cup my left hand below my right and slowly open my hand to stare down at the tiny device.

I barely have five minutes to myself, staring in silence at Diana's abandoned communicator, before there's a knock at my door. I ignore it, in truth barely hear it at all.

Another knock a moment later and my door cracks open. "Master Bruce?" Without moving, I shift a bit of my attention to Alfred as he steps into the room. "Oh, my…" I hear him add under his breath as he approaches.

He crosses in front of me, sets a tray down to my left on the end table where I found Diana's communicator. I miss what's on it, but I can smell coffee and there's no doubt in my mind that there's a second cup for Diana. I feel another furrow opening deep in my heart.

Alfred's hand lands on my left shoulder supportively and a moment later, I feel the bed shift as my oldest friend takes a seat beside me. I manage to hold my silence for only a few moments more, but find myself unable to contain my words when he pulls his hand away.

"She's gone, Alfred," I say simply. He replies with silence, but I know he's waiting for more. "She went back to Themyscira. She's gone for good…"

I squeeze my eyes shut and lean down, bending my head closer to the communicator in my open hands. I fight down my emotions, try to regain some degree of composure, but it's a fool's errand. My vaunted self-control is gone, vanished off to somewhere well beyond my reach.

Kent's accusations flood my thoughts. "And it's my fault! I didn't try to stop her! I didn't even think to question her!" I pause again, open my eyes and stare once more at my last reminder of Diana of Themyscira, Princess of the Amazons. "She's gone…" I mutter in a small voice, "and I didn't even tell her I wanted her to stay…"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Clearly, this chapter is _much_ longer than the first. I want to warn you now that while I have no requirements for how long a chapter must be, they're tending to be longer than I've typically written in the past. There may still be a shorter chapter every so often, but length of the chapter won't, necessarily have an impact on the speed of updates. My goal is to remain more consistent in hopes of avoiding some six months of silence, like I allowed while I was writing Purpose. I again pledge to finish this story and I hope you'll all still be with me by the time I finish not just the first, but all three arcs of Pure Beauty's story.


	3. Left Wanting

**Author's Note: **For clarity's sake, this chapter introduces a new scene transition: paragraphs entirely in italics without quotes. I feel they're made obvious as you encounter them, but I wanted to explain that they're an evolution of the momentary breaks in the last chapter, Bruce sensing his love for Diana and coming to understand what it was and how deep it runs.

I also feel the need to address something I hoped never to need to address: the personal attacks in a small number of last chapter's reviews. I've stated before to some of my most dedicated reviewers, in past Author's Notes, and on my profile that I do not know the DC comic universe proper. I have seen and enjoyed the majority of DC's animated productions and feel most at home in the DCAU. The comics are a huge moving target that I don't have it in me to chase. The DCAU may be static at this point, but it's still rife with opportunities for authors and artists to base their own fan works on. Beyond that, many would agree when I say that DC has taken their comics in directions I simply don't care for with the New52, but that's alright because the DCAU and the New52 don't depend on one another—each can exist without _invalidating_ the other.

To _all_ of my reviewers: I thank you for your praise, your concerns, your criticisms, your input, and your support. To my readers: I thank you for sticking with me even if what I write or how I write isn't necessarily your favorite. To those simply out to mock or attack: I don't attack people creating things that go against my preferred pairings...why you gotta be here harassing us for ours?

All named and recognizable characters used in this non-commercial work are the property of DC Comics.

* * *

><p><em>I should have stopped her…<em>

I lean back as a petty thief tries to attack from my left. With my right hand, I grab his wrist as it goes by. Gritting my teeth, I wind my left arm back and immediately unleash it, smashing the man's nose and filling the alley with a scream not my own.

_But how could I have known?_

I lift the man by his collar, slipping a line around his chest and holding it along with the left edge of his jacket. "Where is he?" I demand.

"I ain't telling you nothin', Bats!"

A little more effort and I lift the man completely off his feet. One step forward. A second step. A third. He's getting nervous.

I let go with my right hand, slip it back beneath my cape as I extend my left arm out over the edge. "Last chance. Talk."

A gulp and a whimper are my answer. With a firm hold on my grapnel, I let the man plummet down to the street. He cries out in fear and I keep a close eye as he falls.

Riddler's men aren't normally so difficult to get talking. They usually want to talk, ready with some sort of clue upon their capture. Riddler expects me to catch his lackeys, he practically designs his plans around it.

I nearly stop him from hitting, but I hesitate. A moment later I hear the crack of splitting bone from the edge of the roof and he issues the first in a symphony of agonized screams. I scowl disappointedly, knowing I'll have to call for transport to get him to Gotham General and I probably won't get anything useful out of him now.

_I'm Batman! I have to know! It's my job to know!_

My blood boils.

I secure the end of my line around the railing on a fire escape, jump over the edge. I stop my descent inches from the ground, wrap my arm around the would-be rapist. His knife falls with a clatter to the ground in front of his victim as I carry him to the rooftops.

"Put me down! Let go of me!" he shouts just before we reach the fire escape. I shoot off another line and swing away, hauling the scum away from the scene.

I land on my feet on a rooftop a half block away, throw the man to the concrete in front of me. He lands with a grunt as my grapnel rewinds and I clip it back onto my belt.

It doesn't take long for him to sit up and turn to me. It takes even less time for him to start trying to back away. He slows himself down trying to zip his pants back up and button them again.

I begin walking slowly, purposefully toward him. His excuses, his pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears.

I see arms lifting, fists punching. I watch as knees and feet strike. It all feels so detached from me. The man almost violated an innocent woman, but somehow he's nothing more than business as usual for Batman.

My body continues doling out punishment and my mind picks up a new track. I begin to feel myself again, the effort of each blow, the contact with his bloodied face and his breaking body.

He's a perversion. His evil was going to pervert the memories of my last moments with her, my last acts with her, my memories of the happiness I found in another person moments before my heart was torn asunder for a second time. That makes him all the viler to Bruce Wayne.

_I should have stopped her…_

The days keep adding onto each other. Days quickly stringing into weeks. Each day I have the same thoughts. Each night I have the same arguments with myself.

Whether or not I want it to, life goes on. My life as Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and billionaire playboy is getting more difficult to maintain. Even so, that's not to say that life as Batman, self-appointed guardian of Gotham, has become any less difficult as a result.

Outside of meetings and the occasional acquisition, I spend most of my time at Wayne Enterprises standing at the window in my office, facing east, looking over and between the other buildings of Gotham toward the Atlantic. Standing here, I sometimes envy Kent. If I had enough Kryptonian blood in me, maybe my eyes could pierce the curve of the Earth and I could see Themyscira from my office.

Maybe I could see Diana.

A knock on my office door pulls me back from the plane of possibility and supposition. I barely make it back to my chair as the door opens. My most loyal employee—at Wayne Enterprises, that is—walks in with a manila folder.

"Afternoon, Lucius," I greet cheerily, putting on one of my best acts since her departure. "What've you got for me?"

"Can it, Bruce." I'm taken aback. He tosses the folder onto my desk. I see the word 'Confidential' stamped in red on the tab, but nothing spills out. "That's just the easiest way to get me past your secretary without any questions," he says to answer my unspoken query.

The balding older man takes a seat in the chair opposite my own. His knees hit the back edge of my desk as he pulls himself closer. "If you don't mind me saying, you've always been a little featherbrained, a little aloof, but you've always done a good job of running this company."

I know where he's going with this and I nearly curse myself for whatever series of slips let him pick up on the impact Diana's departure has had on me. "What happened, Bruce? A blind man could see that you're hurting."

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and sigh my way through the exhale. With a sudden weight on my shoulders, I lift myself from my chair and walk back toward the windows, once more open my eyes to the east.

"Uh oh. I know that sigh. Lady troubles," Lucius remarks with a bit of humor.

_'__Of course. Why would anyone take the billionaire playboy, Gotham's most eligible __bachelor__, seriously when he has relationship issues?__'_ I fight back a grimace of annoyance. "She left without a reason, Lucius. Or at least there wasn't one she saw fit to tell me."

"Bruce…" I hear Lucius's chair slide back and he stands to approach from my left. "I never figured anyone would have to tell you of all people this, but…" He pauses, lays his hand on my shoulder encouragingly. "There're plenty of other fish in the sea."

I already plan to argue the point, but I close my eyes for a moment, my outward expression souring as a memory comes unbidden. I see Diana and myself at the small table in the dining hall, the joy greater than any other on Diana's face. It's almost painful to open my eyes and pull myself back to the present. "No," I say quietly as I turn my eyes back. I refocus myself on the scene outside the window and the island far, far beyond the horizon. "She's one of a kind."

_I let her in, gave her a moment's satisfaction so we could both move on! She gave me an easy path and I was so afraid of getting attached that I took it without thinking—without realizing I already was…_

"She's not coming back, is she?"

My head snaps from Diana's empty chair to John. I feel my rage begin boiling toward the surface. I'm just about to rise when a voice cuts through the recycled air. "No. No, she's not." I straighten my neck, look across the conference table. My eyes linger on that stupid red and yellow shield before I lift them to his face. "Someone decided she wasn't worth keeping around and now we're left with nothing to do but respect her decision to leave."

It's obvious the comment is directed squarely at me, but it's amazing that even without any semblance of emphasis, I can still hear the true depths of his anger. He hasn't said much to me directly—more accurately he's avoided me—but it's clear he blames me for the loss of his best friend just as much now as he did a month ago when Diana left.

"I feel like Wally'd ask if we could just go find her and talk her into coming back," John says as his eyes drop to the center of the table.

"That didn't exactly go over well the last time. Last time we tried to involve ourselves with Themysciran affairs, we got Diana exiled from the island," Superman replies, reminding me of the pain Hippolyta and Diana both tried to bury as they said their farewells that day.

"Well, what about Shayera?" The Thanagarian perks up at John's question, and then quickly shakes her head. "What? You and Diana are on good terms now, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm not getting in the middle of this. I already talked to Diana about leaving. She came to see me before she left, same as the rest of us. I don't know what more you expect me to tell her."

"Then if it is space Diana requires from us, perhaps it would likewise be best for us to remove her chair for the time being." The idea pains me and I turn to J'onn with disbelief. He's looking back at me, as if waiting for me to turn.

I struggle with what to say, some excuse to keep her chair, something more of hers that she left behind, from being taken from me. That's when I hear J'onn's voice on the edge of my mind. _'I do not mean to wound you with this suggestion, but you must know that holding onto the memory of Diana as tightly as you are is only going to cause more pain.'_

I don't want to answer him, but he's right. So, instead of speaking aloud or responding to J'onn's telepathy, I lean back into my own chair. I let Shayera and John voice their agreement, and then a moment later, J'onn calls an end to the meeting while John lifts Diana's chair with his ring and leaves with Shayera close behind.

With nothing left for me but to return to Gotham, I stand. "Batman, a word," Superman says, lifting his chin from his thumbs. Across the room, John and Shayera pause in the doorway, looking back for a brief moment before turning away and hurrying out. J'onn looks to Superman with concern, then turns to me apologetically before following after the others. We all know what's coming, not sure how I expected to avoid it.

I straighten in front of my chair, letting my cape encase me as the Boy Scout and I wait for the doors to close. "Have you been in to see Wally?" I narrow my eyes behind the cowl. Not inaccurately, he takes it as a no and continues, "You really should apologize to him, Bruce." Again I remain silent. He rises, grabs the edge of the table and flips it off to his right and out of the way. "_You_ gave him a concussion!_ You_ injured him! _You_ almost blew him up!"

I think back as Superman stomps his way across the empty space where the conference table was. I'd been on my way back to Gotham and was on the transporter deck when Flash had sped past me. He was on his way to Central City to fight the combined threat of Captain Cold, Captain Boomerang, and Mirror Master.

He'd invited me along after making a joke about not needing to worry about Trickster. Wally was glad to say that the fourth rogue was still on his medications. I don't know what possessed me to join him. Maybe I'd just wanted to vent some rage.

We were attacked almost as soon as we arrived in Central City. Captain Cold struck first, freezing the ground all around us to keep Flash from capitalizing on his incredible speed. Fortunately, Captain Boomerang and Mirror Master turned their attention on Flash, forcing him off the ice and leaving me to deal with the Mr. Freeze-like villain.

I'd immediately thrown three batarangs and then reached for a pair of grapnels on my belt. Captain Cold managed to avoid two of them, but the third projectile knocked one of his ice guns out of his hands and far enough away that we both knew I'd take him down if he tried to retrieve it. Meanwhile, I had begun using my grapnels to pull myself across the ice, my boots sliding like a pair of sleds on the slick surface.

I'd done my best to quickly work my way around Captain Cold, moving closer whenever possible. The blasts from his one remaining ice gun had been difficult to avoid, but I'd managed for the most part by using my grapnels as cornering devices, like the hooked lines I've had on the Batmobile since I first hired Earl Cooper to build me a car.

When I was sure I was at last close enough, I'd changed tactics, exchanging the grapnel in my right hand for another batarang while cornering with the grapnel in my left. I'd pulled hard, nearly come off my feet before throwing. I had then let go of the second grapnel, launching myself directly at Captain Cold right behind my batarang.

It worked perfectly. Though he'd managed to narrowly avoid the batarang, he couldn't avoid me as I leapt from the edge of the ice, tackled him to the ground, and rolled back to my feet on the other side. With a strategic kick, I'd relieved him of his other armament before dropping down, flipping him onto his stomach, and restraining him.

After, I'd headed toward Flash to assist him with Mirror Master and Captain Boomerang. He was working his way closer to Captain Boomerang as both rogues took pot shots at him. In my infinite wisdom, I'd decided to use an exploding batarang, setting a proximity detonator with the intent of knocking Mirror Master off his feet.

As luck would have it, Flash had reached Captain Boomerang as I wound my arm back, delivered a crippling blow, and then turned to Mirror Master. While my batarang was in flight, Mirror Master had unknowingly driven Flash into its path and it'd detonated after getting too close to my ally rather than my target.

My response was to take Mirror Master down before he could take advantage of the situation. I hadn't even noticed that Flash was injured until I looked back and saw someone crouched over him, a dark-haired woman. It was Linda Park, the woman from the Flash Museum back on Flash Appreciation Day, I'd realized later—well after pushing her aside and calling up to the Watchtower to have us transported back to the station.

"I remember," I finally tell the Man of Steel, my voice even, emotionless.

The muscles under Superman's left eye twitch. He leans back, stares at me derisively. "How many more of us will it take before you're satisfied?"

I bristle. "You think I _meant_ to hurt him?" I demand, closing the distance between us and getting right in his face, daring him to add to his list of accusations.

In an instant, Superman pivots forward, grabbing me by the front of my costume. The Kevlar weave past his knuckles rips like tissue paper as he closes his hand into a tight fist. He pushes me back and follows right after me. "I gave up thinking you care…"

I bare my teeth and growl through clenched jaws, "Let go."

He narrows his eyes and rolls his fist inward, dragging me a little closer. "Is that what you told Diana? Is that why she left?"

The fury is nearly overwhelming and my hand shoots to the lead-lined compartment on my belt almost without my awareness. My fingers quiver with rage, probably the only thing that keeps me from opening it. "You think this is _my_ fault? You think this is what _I_ wanted?"

"Who else would be to blame?" he counters a moment after I reach up to grip his costume with both hands.

"_You knew!_ She told you she was leaving the League and returning to Themyscira long before she showed up at my door—and you said _nothing_ to me!"

"Don't even try to pin this on me, Bruce! You're the detective. _You_ should have figured it out yourself!" My breaths come shallower and shallower as he speaks. I nearly interrupt him to tell him I've blamed myself for failing to do the very same. "But no! You're too pigheaded, too self-absorbed to worry about anyone but your own self!" It's all I can do to keep my hands on his uniform. I'd get nothing but broken bones if I let my grip slip and tried to punch him.

My focus falls back to that evening, to that night that Diana shared herself with me and I likewise shared myself with her. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about…" A flurry of images pass through my mind's eye. Diana, across from me as we ate our dessert. Watching her lips spread into a loving smile as we came down from kiss after kiss throughout the night. The expression, the joy and the pride she held while looking down when she first settled herself against me.

"Get out."

At the sudden words, I lift my chin to look Superman in the eye again. "What?"

He pushes me back. My hands come free of his costume and I make a quick effort to balance myself before I can fall over. "Get off the Watchtower. I'm ejecting you from the Justice League. I've already figured other ways to fund the League without you. You're toxic, Bruce, and I don't want anything to do with you or Gotham ever again."

It takes everything I have not to answer with anger, with a physical outburst. I still my arms, drop them to my sides and hold them perfectly straight. "Fine. Save me the trouble," I manage before lifting my right foot and beginning the short walk back to the elevators.

It feels like it takes an eternity.

I make only one stop on the transporter deck. I don't say a word to the technician as I push him away from the control console. There's one thing I have to do before I can get myself off the tin can I bought and paid for—_twice_. I need to activate a subroutine to ensure this is the last time the transporter can deliver anyone to Gotham or Blüdhaven. It won't stop anyone from _reaching_ my city, but short of a renovation of the entire transporter system, it'll cut down on unwanted visitors.

When I'm done, I step out onto the transporter pad and it powers up. Before I can blink, I get one more glimpse of the inside of the expensive space station, then it's gone in a flash of light. When the light fades, I'm surrounded by the familiar darkness of the Batcave.

Alfred's near the Batcomputer as I go to take my seat at its controls. I notice Dick standing beside him. I ignore the two men for the moment, recalibrating the WayneTech satellites to warn me if the Watchtower sets anyone down within fifty miles of either Gotham or Blüdhaven, well outside the limit I set from within the transporter itself.

"What happened, Master Bruce?"

For a few moments, I stop, try to process all of it again for myself. Finally, I rise from my seat, return to the display cases and stop in front of the empty case reserved for my Batsuit. "They stay out of my business, I stay out of theirs."

I lift my hands to the sides of my head. "Bruce…" I don't answer, but a moment later I feel Dick's hand on my shoulder as I push my cowl back. "Whatever happens…Alfred, Tim, Barbara, and me, we're all here for you."

I finally turn my head, look back over my shoulder at the elder of my adopted sons. I stare in silence long enough to blink a few times. It's not just a platitude, I can see it in his eyes. Beyond him, Alfred stands equally supportive. I know Dick is right, Barbara and Tim would say the same if they were here in the cave now.

A humorless smirk lifts the corners of my lips for a brief moment before I relax my neck, turn my head back to the case, and drop my chin to my chest. "Thanks," I reply quietly, though sincerely.

_Of course it's my fault she's gone…but why didn't she tell me? I could have stopped her…I could have…I would have…told her…_

"Whoa! Leave some for the cops, Batman," I hear Robin say from behind me.

They've practically trained me to take pause and look at my victim with those words. I drop a bloodied and broken Penguin and stand tall. I kick his multipurpose umbrella farther from his grasp as I turn away and leave the rotund kingpin to my young protégé.

I wait until I hear the click of Robin's cuffs locking around Cobblepot's thick wrists, then lift my grapnel to the skyline and fire. A moment more, the line goes taut, lifts me into the air, and I swing away. I settle on a nearby rooftop and tune my cowl's radio to the GCPD frequency while I wait for Robin to catch up.

I hear the radio chatter as the dispatcher directs units to Penguin's location, noting that an ambulance is also en route. I see Robin swing up toward me a few minutes later while officers inform GCPD Headquarters that Penguin is with a police escort on his way to Gotham General Hospital.

"Overdo it much?" the young Robin asks.

"No."

Robin turns away, looking back toward the museum where I'd caught Penguin and his goon squad red-handed. He turns back to me with a sigh a moment later. "Yeah, maybe not." He doesn't sound convinced, but as he pauses to step closer, I'm just glad that he's willing to move on. "So, what's next? Anything come up on the radio or do we call it a night?"

I stand, take my grapnel in my hand again and lift my foot onto the ledge. "Nothing. It's been a long night. We'll head back for now."

Tim practically cheers as I leave the roof a few seconds ahead of him. We quickly make our way back to the Batmobile. I reach the partly hidden vehicle well beforehand and, as soon as he's secure in his seat beside me, I hit the accelerator and we speed off on the way back to the cave.

Once home, I let Tim get out ahead of me and make my way slowly out of the Batmobile and over to where Alfred waits by the cases. It's a slow plod to the Batcomputer for me and I'm vaguely aware of Tim asking Alfred to take care of his costume before my young ally ducks into the showers to clean up.

"I trust the evening was without incident," Alfred says while walking up beside me. I glance over for a moment and see him folding Tim's suit over his left forearm.

"Caught Penguin downtown trying to steal a new art collection. They'd just gotten it on loan from another art museum."

"Whatever was he after?"

"A small exhibit assembled by the National Audubon Society. Two paintings, one of a falcon and the other of a pair of great blue herons, as well as an abstract sculpture. One guess what that was of."

"A penguin, perhaps?"

"And an emperor penguin at that," I reply, turning back to the Batcomputer to log the night's events.

"I must say, Master Bruce, it's quite fortunate that some of your adversaries are predictable from time to time, isn't it?"

I try to think about the question, but something else sidetracks me. I spend a few moments of silence trying to remember why I'd dealt Penguin so much punishment tonight, but I can't think of anything he'd done to irk me. "On occasion, yes," I answer before Alfred can question my inward focus.

I turn, see him heading upstairs. A moment later, Tim comes out of the showers. He lets me know he's heading up, then follows after Alfred. Before long I'm alone in the cave once more.

The realization takes me back to that morning. The bright morning sun. The sheets beside me thoughtfully straightened. The growing emptiness that's been slowly eating away at me every moment since.

With a little effort, I bring myself back to the present, but that only serves to remind me of another problem. "Kicked out of the Justice League?" I ask myself incredulously. Six weeks later and it still feels surreal.

I sink deeper into my chair, raise a hand to my head to slip my cowl back, and tip my head into the headrest. With a heavy sigh, I close my eyes. My arm falls back down to the armrest with a soft smack.

I keep thinking that I'll get a call from the Watchtower asking for my help. I keep…_hoping_…that Diana will bridge the span between the League's systems and my own network to contact me. I keep hating myself for forgetting that her communicator is encased on my nightstand, a daily reminder of what little time we did share and my pain from our separation.

For a while, I focus on the rocks behind the top of the screen, grounding myself and clearing my mind. I manage to keep my thoughts from straying until I hear the door at the top of the staircase up to the manor opening.

A woman's voice calls down to me in the darkness. "Bruce? Aren't you coming upstairs?" Zatanna. "It doesn't do you any good to sit down here by yourself, you know." She chuckles softly as she continues down the stairs. I can't see her yet, as I still haven't turned away from the Batcomputer, but I can clearly hear the heels of her shoes clicking on the steps.

With a resigned sigh, I lift myself to my feet, put the Batcomputer into low power mode, and turn toward the display cases. "I know," I reply while removing my suit.

"So I heard from Tim that you went a little overboard with Penguin tonight." Her voice is small, concerned, kind. "Anything happen? You want to talk about it?"

"No." A curt reply—rude, I'll even admit—as I begin making my way to the showers.

"Don't care or don't remember?" she asks and I stop in my tracks, look back at the magician. "Ah. Don't remember then, right?"

I mumble incoherently to avoid giving a real answer. She doesn't fall for it. "Come on, Bruce! I came all this way to visit you. The least you could do is let me try to help. Would you like to try a little bit of magic, see if we can figure out what you've forgotten?"

I whirl angrily around. "Zatanna, you know how I feel—"

"Relax, Bruce. Of course I know," she quietly interrupts. She waits for me to calm before continuing. "I _was going _to suggest asking Tim. He was with you, right? Maybe you'll be able to figure out what went wrong just from seeing things from his perspective."

I open the door to the showers and step inside. "Ok, I guess I'll just wait out here," she says when she realizes I don't intend to answer. "At least think about it. Alright, Bruce?"

"Fine."

I close the door behind myself and strip off my underclothes on the way to the shower stall. When I'm ready, I turn on the shower and stand still for a moment in the water, letting the heat relax my sore body.

It isn't long before I start thinking about Zatanna's offer. I'd like to know exactly what set me off, but a part of me already knows what must have happened. I certainly hadn't gone into the museum expecting to cripple Penguin so horribly, but he must have said something, done something that reminded me of having lost Diana. The only question is if he provided a direct or indirect reminder.

Or maybe it was my fault. Maybe it was as simple as my happening to think of her.

I grit my teeth and bury my face under the spray after glancing back in the direction of the door out to the cave. I've begun to hate this life, this work, the Mission itself. In a flash all too brief to fulfill me, I had a reason to smile—the same reason that my mother and father smiled, I've finally come to understand, true love realized.

Now all I have is a memory and the mantle that both brought us together and kept us apart. And yet I cannot stop being Batman.

It's almost paradoxical, but despite the growing hatred I have for my time in the cowl, I've only gained another reason to push on and continue my work. I let Diana slip through my grasp because I was too pre-occupied with being Batman. If I were to give up the mantle now, I'd make her departure for nothing… "And gain nothing in return…" I mumble to myself to complete the thought.

With a grimace, I turn off the water and quickly dry myself. I fetch a set of clean clothes and head back out to rejoin Zatanna after dressing. "What's the verdict?" she asks as soon as she sees me come out.

I look over, see her sitting sideways in my chair at the Batcomputer, her legs over one arm, her back resting against the other. She hops out of her seat and begins walking toward me as I turn and make my way toward the stairs up to the manor. "It's not worth it."

"Not worth it how? I know you tend to think of all magic as having a price after the whole thing with Circe and all, but what could be wrong with a little peek into Tim's memories, especially if he agrees?"

I turn my head back to her as she falls into step behind me on our way up the steps. "I mean it's not worth the effort. I've more or less figured out why I put Penguin in surgery, so there's no point bothering Tim about it."

"Diana?" Zatanna asks cautiously after a few moments of quiet.

The question brings me to a pause. I count off three breaths before turning back to her with a look somewhere between sorrowfulness and forlornness. Her own expression falls and she looks toward my feet. "Sorry."

With a heavy sigh, I return my attention to the secret door back into the manor. "It's fine, Zatanna." I pull the latch and the door to the study begins opening. "We both know I'd be lying if I said it was anything else."

Zatanna walks with me toward the sitting room, as is our ritual. We take the seats facing the fireplace and the portrait of my parents above it. Alfred comes in shortly after and serves us drinks before lighting the wood awaiting our arrival in the fireplace. The two of them have their own conversation while I turn my focus up to the moment frozen in time, hanging above the mantle and safe from the flames below.

"Bruce?"

I turn, look to Zatanna, noticing that we're alone again. I hadn't heard Alfred leave. Sometimes I wonder if it's something he picked up from me or something I picked up from him. Finally, I reply with a questioning hum.

"How're you feeling?"

I pause before answering, decide to avoid the topic of Diana. "Like it's still not real."

"What isn't?"

"The League."

She mouths a silent "ah" while nodding in understanding. She averts her gaze, looks past me and out the window at the end of the room. "Yeah…" After another moment, she adds, "It just isn't the same without you."

I grimace. I don't want to know if she meant the singular you or the plural you. I'm not sure if I want to know. "Don't, Zatanna. You know I hear enough about them from J'onn," I say to steer the conversation away in as soft a tone as I can manage. If I had to judge, I'd say it sounded small and weak. A beggar's plea.

From the corner of my eye, I see her turn back to me, look on apologetically for a full breath. "You're the one who brought them up, Bruce, but still, I know what you mean. I'm here as a friend."

I lift my head and meet her gaze with an appreciative smile. I think back to the first week after Kent kicked me out of the League. Only two people bothered to visit me, Zatanna and J'onn. The rest seemed to agree with Superman about distancing themselves from me, either because of what happened with Diana or maybe from injuring Wally, accidental though it was. Not that I cared about the reason.

J'onn knew that what happened to Wally was an accident and told me that, for what it was worth, Wally didn't think there was anything to apologize for. He just didn't know how to approach me. I can tell J'onn also seems to know what really happened the morning Diana left, though if it's because he caught a glimpse of my unbalanced mind or if he's still in contact with her, I'm too much of a coward to ask. I know he's waiting for the question, but I just can't bring myself to know. I'd rather feign disinterest when he tells me about the bonds of lovers and once lovers strengthening and reforming after the League's founders watched what happened with Diana and me.

A week after I'd left the League, Wally had revealed his secret identity to the reporter I'd pushed aside. At the time, J'onn felt it necessary to remind me of her name. Linda Park. Just last week, John and Shayera got back together, went on their first date since the Thanagarian invasion. Sadly, it hadn't gone quite as smoothly as everyone wanted, leaving Shayera in particular quite bitter, but it was still progress, however small. Even Kent has been making progress with Lois.

That was the news that hurt most. The man vents all his anger and frustration from losing his best friend at me, then kicks me out of his life and embraces his own happiness while I'm still reeling from losing mine. Sometimes I feel like he's rubbing it in my face. It's not worth seeing him again to confront him and it's pointless to hold it against J'onn, merely the proverbial messenger, so instead I vent my own grievances while patrolling Gotham's streets.

Zatanna, meanwhile, had been trying to get me to open up and talk. She'd genuinely wanted to help me out and for the first few days, I'd done as much to ignore her as I initially had to Diana. Fortunately, I realized what I was doing the same night she made it clear why she kept frequenting the manor.

"What was it you said again?" I ask, interrupting Zatanna and putting whatever our conversation was on hold.

She stops, the look on her face turning to understanding before she flashes a brief, knowing smile. "I've been _your_ friend far longer than I've been a member of the Justice League." I nod with approval, but she grows somber and I'm sure she's nailed my train of thought when she asks, "Do you miss them? The people, that is."

I decide to allow her question while releasing a drawn out exhale, then I look up to the portrait, and finally down to the flames in the fireplace. "Sometimes, to a degree." After a few moments, I add nearly under my breath, "A few of them, anyway."

_Diana…did you ever expect this is what would happen once you were gone?_

"Finally, speculation abounds as today marks one month since Gotham's most eligible bachelor was last seen in public." A video still of Lucius Fox appears in the screen over Summer Gleeson's right shoulder. "As we learned last week from an interview with Wayne Enterprise's acting CEO, Mister Wayne is very much alive and well, despite having passed on the majority of his duties over his family's company to one of his most trusted employees, Mister Lucius Fox, who insists the change is only temporary."

A picture of Alfred standing before the manor's front entrance replaces the image of Lucius. "Gotham Insider's cameras have been repeatedly turned away at the doors of Wayne Manor by the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth. The staunch old man seemingly appears at every turn, keeping our crews from learning anything about Bruce Wayne or the cause for his self-imposed isolation."

The world-famous image of Bigfoot walking through the trees replaces Alfred behind Summer. "Of course, the big news is the near constellation of speculations and theories about what happened to Mister Wayne and what he's doing now. Some believe he cracked under the pressures of business and spends his time in a Jacuzzi plotting the biggest comeback party in Gotham's history. Others say the infamous playboy has at last found true love and took his _very_ lucky lady somewhere nice, maybe even gotten himself eloped—but don't worry, ladies, the Insider hasn't found any records of a marriage license on the books. Still others think that he's spent the decades since his parents' murder fooling himself, creating an image that finally crumbled as the reality hit home."

I blink slowly as I continue to watch the broadcast. "My personal favorite is that Gotham's most _handsome_ devil has inexplicably donned a fur suit and stilts, moved into the mountains, and is behind the increased frequency of Bigfoot sightings reported this spring versus the last." I smirk, mildly amused at the idea.

"Regardless the real reason for Mister Wayne's vanishing act, it goes without saying that everyone here at WGOB hopes he's doing well. If you're out there watching, Bruce, I hope we'll be seeing you again soon." My shoulders sink. "Well, that's it for this hour, Gotham. Tune in tomorrow evening for another edition of Gotham Insider."

_Would she have even believed me if I'd told her I wanted her to stay? I've spent so much time__—__wasted so much of my life and hers__—__trying to convince the both of us that a relationship wouldn't work…__ What if...what if I finally got through to her?_

"Leave it."

"Master Bruce, you were shot, no matter that the bullet merely grazed you!"

I turn to face Alfred, leaning over me with his surgical tools. "Leave it."

Alfred looks down from the top of my shoulder to the other slowly healing scrapes and bruises that now litter my body. "Master Bruce, please. Will you at least permit me to disinfect the wound?"

"Fine," I answer, turning away.

A few moments later, I feel the cotton swab against my broken skin. An explosion of pain rips through my shoulder as the alcohol sets my nerves aflame. I can't help but wonder if Alfred decided to use the most painful disinfectant he could find, but it's not worth asking. In a way, he's only given me what I wanted: a dose of physical pain to distract from the emotional turmoil that seems to stab at me anew with each thought of the woman who even now holds my heart.

Seven hours later, I'm passing through the foyer to find Alfred before lunch, doing my best to keep from rubbing at the gauze patch visible through the neck of my loose shirt. A knock on the ornate front doors captures my attention. In an instant, I'm over seven months in the past.

_'Diana!'_ my mind practically shouts as I rush across the open floor in long, heavy strides. I reach out with my left hand, my palm striking the frame, bringing me to a full stop before I can crash into the door. I curse the wood for blocking my sight and ignore the pain shooting back and forth across my shoulder as I reach over with my right hand, grab the right-hand doorknob, and pull the door inside and out of my way.

Just as quickly, I sidestep, putting myself squarely in the open doorway. My expression falls as a camera bulb flashes in my face. More flashes as I lift an arm to shield my eyes and I hear a man's voice calling my name in question.

My anger boils. My hands close into tight fists. I bare my teeth for a brief moment as I swing my left arm down and away from my face. "Get out!" I bellow.

I nearly back into the manor, slam the door in their faces, but again and again the bulb continues to flash. Without thinking, I lunge forward, ripping the SLR from the cameraman's hands, turn left, and throw it as hard as I can. "I said _get out_!" I shout, turning back to the gawking reporters as the camera sails low through the air, bouncing once near the edge of the driveway, and then slipping through a gap in the crenellation-like barrier to disappear out of sight as it tumbles over the edge of the cliff.

A few days later, Alfred returns from the front door, having successfully negotiated peace with the camera's owner and a pair of policemen from Gordon's department. He hands me the checkbook while admonishing me and calling my attention to the new entry for a ten thousand dollar check. He makes a side-note about expecting the man to not just replace, but upgrade his lost equipment as I disinterestedly return the checkbook after a mere glance.

_What am I doing? After a mistake like that, how could I keep thinking that she'll appear at my door again? Why do I bother hoping? She's not coming back...not for me..._

I squeeze my hands over the ends of my chair's arms in frustration. _'I should have stopped her when I still had the chance…'_

I look down at the sturdy—though uncomfortable—piece of furniture below me. Everyone is glad to see I've stopped spending so much time watching television, but Tim, Barbara, Dick, J'onn, and even Alfred only barely tolerate all the time I spend in this chair, waiting for the next knock at the front door. Only Zatanna seems determined enough to force me from my seat when she visits.

My young partners seem willing to keep their thoughts to themselves, letting me do what I want so long as I continue the Mission. They know as well as I do that I cannot stop, that each night I am driven to lift myself from my post beside the foyer stairs and don the cowl. Each night my hatred for it burns hotter.

Three weeks ago, Freeze begged for his life at my hands. Eight days later, I turned Scarecrow's latest formula against him, setting an automatic timed injector in my suit and intentionally injecting myself with his serum. He'd been experimenting with turning one emotion into another and, having already proven he could turn an adrenaline rush into fear, was testing a formula meant to turn a person's fear into a blinding rage. I'd intentionally let myself relive the night my parents died and nearly torn him limb from limb before the timer ran out and injected me with the antidote.

Three nights ago, Joker and Harley had attacked a political function. I don't even know what it was, just that Mayor Hill and Commissioner Gordon were both in attendance. By comparison, I'd played nice, but only until Joker hit me with his electrified joy buzzer. After recovering from that, my body was not my own.

I'd rushed Joker, slammed my head into his to stagger him when he caught my punches. Harley had then attacked me from behind, jumping on my back and trying to choke me. I'd leaned back to try to throw her off, but it hadn't done me much good. In the same motion, I'd delivered a kick to Joker's chest, sending him into the wall behind him.

The newly opened space in front of me gave me room to work, so I'd reached up and grabbed Harley by the shoulders, pulled her forward and to the floor in front of me. Before she had a chance to recover, I'd reached down, grabbed her left wrist and ankle. After spinning her around a couple times, I released her, sending her flying across the room. Her back slammed against the wall, her head following before she fell unconscious to the floor.

Joker had shouted something about Harley being _his_ punching bag before lunging at me again. I grabbed hold of his wrists to keep them from closing around my neck, then kicked his feet out from under him. I'd planted my knee into his back as he landed, but lost my grip on his wrists. He hadn't wasted the chance to try hitting me with the joy buzzer again.

I'd managed to outmaneuver his arm, grabbed it once again with hands that for all intents and purposes were outside my control. His wrist broke first, but I hadn't stopped there. I broke his arm in two places. Amidst his screams of pain, I gave his other arm the same treatment before turning him over. I stared straight into the deranged clown's face as I crossed my right leg over his upper legs, grabbed his left ankle in my right hand and began to pull it toward the sky.

That's when I saw it. For the first time in my life, I saw fear on Joker's face.

It'd shocked me. I regained full control of myself, let Joker's leg go and began to stand. That's when he grinned and snickered. I scowled as he laughed, gave him a small chance to stop on his own, then punched him hard in the face, breaking his nose and knocking him out when his head slammed back into the floor.

First thing the next morning, Tim and Alfred got Dick involved. He agreed to come to Gotham, to help Tim and Barbara keep me from doing something I'd regret. Dick's first action upon arrival was a visit to Gordon to avoid a manhunt—Barbara's greatest fear after a prior episode with Scarecrow—and assure him they wouldn't let me go out of control again.

"Why should I care what happens?" I mumble to myself.

Luckily no one is nearby to hear me. Dick is upstairs in bed, taking advantage of his daytime vacation. Tim has already gone to school. Alfred is busy in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast and probably already thinking about lunch. I hate letting my thoughts slip around them. I can't stand the looks of pity, of disappointment.

A knock at the door interrupts me, draws me from my thoughts. _'Diana!'_ The thought propels me out of my chair, but I only make it another step before I stop myself. _'How many times have I let that hope get the better of me?'_

I ask myself who it could _really_ be, remembering the handful of people who'd shown up at my door in the past month alone. The reporters had left me alone of late, but that didn't stop the odd paparazzi as well as occasional visits from Lucius and a few others. No one aware of Batman's real identity uses the front door anymore, they can't stand watching my spirits fall and knowing why when I look through the open door and see who has arrived.

Another knock at the door echoes through the foyer, this one louder, more insistent. And so I steel myself, step forward while thinking myself ready for the disappointment yet again. With a tired hand, I grasp the brass doorknob, turn it, and pull the door open.

I look out through the doorway and my heart stops. My eyes widen and my mouth falls agape. My throat dries almost instantly, but I don't bother trying to swallow. "Diana…" I get out in a raspy whisper.

There she is standing before me, the Amazon princess—Diana of Themyscira herself. The corners of her lips lift into the faintest of smiles as I say her name. I spend a moment looking her over from head to toe, but a gray cloak wrapped around her shoulders hides almost her entire body, leaving only her head above and her feet below visible.

I get a good look at her exposed feet before realizing the oddity. _'Sandals?'_ I ask myself, darting my eyes back up to her face. Only then do I notice her missing tiara.

She looks like she's waiting for me to finish my assessment. "Please, Diana, come inside." I open the other door as I speak, step aside and sweep my hands into the foyer.

Diana shakes her head. "I can't stay."

I pause, blink as thoughts begin filling my head. "Why?"

Again she smiles. The sadness on her lips pains me. She starts moving her arms below. The cloak begins to open, but I'm too distracted by her expression. "I'm here to—"

"No," I close my eyes and interrupt once I realize she's misinterpreted my question. I don't want to talk about today and now. "I mean why did you…"

After reopening my eyes, I stop for a second time this morning. My heart and my head, all motion and all thought arrested as Diana's cloak opens the rest of the way. She lifts her arms, an infant cradled securely in her grip. When I can again move, my jaw falls once more. I blink soon after, but it's the only other reaction I can muster.

"I delivered her on Themyscira at dawn this morning, Bruce. She's yours."

I close my mouth for a brief moment, swallow before my jaw hangs. I lift unsteady hands toward the snugly-wrapped baby girl. "A daughter…I have a daughter…"

My heart swells with excitement as Diana takes a step closer, extending her arms and offering me our child. I take her without hesitation, gazing into her bright blue eyes. I can see it in her face—in those eyes and their spacing, the dark hair atop her head, the shape of her nose, her cheeks, her chin—one look is all I need to know that this child could never have come from any other union but those I shared with Diana.

I shake my head to distract myself long enough to turn from my daughter to her mother. "Why now?" A flurry of questions swirl about my mind. "Why did you wait until she was born?"

"Because I can't keep her on Themyscira," Diana answers sorrowfully, her eyes avoiding my own, locked on our daughter.

"_What?_" I demand loudly. _'She's a girl, how could that be against your laws?'_

Diana immediately shushes me, reaching across the space between us to touch her left forefinger to my lips, the familiar warmth of her skin numbing me, making my head light. Her right hand, meanwhile, drops down to our baby's forehead. She lovingly strokes her hand back, across the still-conical top of her head and through the short black hair already growing atop her crown.

"I want her to grow up in Man's World, Bruce. I want her to have friends as well as family, children her own age that she can play together with."

"Play?" I ask, trying to understand what she isn't telling me. "You don't want her to train as an Amazon?"

Diana smiles once again. "If that's what it comes to, you're more than qualified to train our daughter, Bruce." She pauses, reminds me, "I told you that I've always admired your combat prowess."

I grit my teeth as a realization dawns on me. "You keep saying 'her', 'she', and 'our daughter'… Doesn't she have a name?"

Diana averts her eyes, looking past me and into the manor. "No."

"Because you could never give her up after giving her a name…" I mutter, though loudly enough for Diana to hear.

We're both silent for a few moments and I turn my attention back to the unnamed infant in my arms. Soon I feel Diana's hands on my cheeks. The contact sets my heart racing. I don't bother resisting her as she lifts my head, letting her grip guide my gaze up. I get a good view of the loose white robes she's wearing under the cloak before my eyes finally meet hers again.

She leans closer, takes my lips with her own. We share a slow, impassioned kiss that nearly makes up for the months of separation. I pull my arms in almost by reflex, clutching our daughter more securely to my chest.

Far too soon, Diana's lips fall away from my own. I open my eyes to find Diana gazing back at me, her hands still cupping my cheeks. "I love you, Bruce," she whispers softly, sincerely.

"I love you too, Diana," I reply before I can even think of it.

She closes her eyes for a moment, hesitating to open them again. When she finally does, her lips form into another sad smile. This one is so much sadder, more powerful than those beforehand. I can feel her internal struggle deep within my own self.

My eyes widen in panic as her hands slip down from my cheeks, disappearing into her cloak as she closes it once again. I can't put words to it—I can barely think at all—but I _know_ what she intends. She takes a step back, then another and another. My gut wrenches and my feet carry me forward and after her, but she begins to float quickly into the air, where I can no longer follow.

My mouth gapes, but I cannot find my voice as Diana lifts herself higher and higher into the cool morning air. _'She didn't stop…I told her I love her and she didn't stop!'_ I feel my breaths coming faster. The panic sets deeper as I struggle to come up with something—_anything_—that might convince her to stay.

Finally, I look down to the bundle in my arms, calm and quiet, awake but oblivious to the happenings around her. _'A name! I need a name now!'_ My breathing accelerates even further, speeding nearly to a fever pitch. Names and meanings rush in and out of my thoughts and I stamp down the question of why I know any of these at all, dedicating all thought to my goal. I try to pick something beautiful, something with a powerful meaning, something that will keep Diana from leaving me—from leaving _us_.

Finally, I lift my head to the sky. "Caitlyn!" I yell after Diana. She stops in midair, turns back, looking over her shoulder at us before beginning to turn her body. "Your daughter's name is Caitlyn!"

Even from the landing, I can see the pain on her expression. Somehow, I'm sure I can even see her tears as they well in the corners of her eyes. My breathing begins to even and I let my lips spread into a smile of relief.

She looks about ready to return to the ground, but at what seems like the last moment before she descends, she turns away, flying higher into the sky. She disappears abruptly. I realize a moment later that her invisible jet was waiting for her above.

I stare at the empty sky for a few more moments, knowing there's nothing more I can do about Diana, then sink slowly and carefully to my knees as I lower my attention to the newborn baby—Caitlyn, my daughter, _our_ daughter—that I clutch securely to my chest. The newborn is watching me with an open smile. When she sees she has my attention, she begins lifting her arms toward my face, her legs shifting within her blankets. "…Hi, Caitlyn… My name is Bruce… I'm your father… How do you like your name? …It means…pure beauty…" I all but whisper.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I understand that there may be some debate on the meaning of the name Caitlyn. Many of the sources I looked at simply said "pure" or similar, but "pure beauty" was used fairly consistently as the name's Irish and/or Celtic meaning.

In many ways, this story will be different from those stories that I've written in the past, including the timing of Bruce and Diana getting together and getting the explanation for the story's title so near the beginning. I have a long-term plan for this story from the get-go and I hope you'll all be with me throughout the ups and downs!


End file.
